


Chloe's Adventure

by pallasite



Category: The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: 2000s, Abduction, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brother-Sister Relationships, Changelings, Eventual Happy Ending, Existential Angst, Fae & Fairies, Family, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending, London, Magic, New York City, POV Female Character, Rescue, Seelie Court, Siblings, Teen Angst, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 04:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10153529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallasite/pseuds/pallasite
Summary: Chloe, a half-fae teenager in New York, goes on an adventure to rescue her little brother, who has been captured by the Fae.  (No prior knowledge of canon is necessary to understand this fic.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With special thanks to Connor Walsh, Kim Beder, Neil Gaiman, and the MIT Assassins’ Guild LARP group.
> 
> (This fic is super old - I wrote it in early 2004. I posted it first so I could learn how AO3 works. Enjoy!)

            A large street sign, warning “Do Not Enter,” hung nailed to her bedroom door, obviously nicked in full red and white glory, beside a few biohazard stickers and the police line she’d nabbed a few years back. No one ever minded, of course.

            She sat on the disheveled bed among piles of dirty clothes, and stomped one black leather boot to the rhythm of the rock music, as she attempted to play the chords on her electric guitar. The liquid crystal monitor in the corner still displayed her half-finished web search for history class, next to the first paragraph of the paper that had been due that morning.

            History was all wrong anyway, even when it was right, just like religion and science.

            She knew it would make no difference if she wrote the paper or not; she’d get an A for it, anyway. That’s just what happened to Chloe. Not that she didn’t study; she read voraciously, about mythology and science, history and art, about religion and philosophy, and lots of politics. She was star of the chess team. She studied Latin, wrote poetry and sang. She loved Shakespeare. Indeed, she spoke Elizabethan English as fluently as she did modern American.

            She planned to pull her usual routine, and hand the paper in a week late, give or take. She’d write it whenever she got around to it, when she had nothing better to do.

            Chloe usually had better things to do. Tonight, she was taking her buddies out for a spin in her Mum’s car. Mum wouldn’t mind, though Chloe had just gotten her permit. Nothing could go wrong. Nothing ever had.

            When she was seven, she’d stolen a slice from her Mum’s wedding cake, but no one had noticed. In second grade, when the other kids were at recess, she’d sneaked inside to write on the board that the teacher was a poopyhead- nothing. For April Fool’s Day (her favorite holiday tied with Christmas and Halloween), she’d turned all the desks upside down, and put a real, live frog on the teacher’s chair. Nothing.

            She’d climbed trees and power lines, jaywalked across highways, slid down banisters, sung loudly on the subway. She’d played in traffic, trespassed, set off firecrackers “unsupervised,” climbed fences. She’d walked through the worst parts of town in the middle of the night, all alone, and skipped through the hallways of her elementary school. She put goldfish in the water cooler at her Mum’s office. In middle and high school she’d arrived late to every class, and often put her feet up on her desk. She slept in the front row. Still nothing.

            She did half her homework at best, and always got A’s. She just did. And whenever she played music for a crowd, they loved it, even if she played them Yankee Doodle, because they thought they were hearing Mozart or some shit.

            The song ended, and she stood to put away the guitar. She blew out the candles and incense on the various altars in the room, and whispered a short prayer to each deity in turn. Chloe knew the importance of manners, and was careful to be respectful of powerful entities. Never hurts to be nice.

            After a special prayer to Bastet, she went to do her hair.

            Her reflection stared back at her in the mirror: a tall, skinny girl of sixteen, with mud brown eyes, her blonde, curly hair permed straight and dyed black. She wore her school “uniform”: a T-shirt and jeans, although her jeans were ripped and decorated with drawings of mythological creatures. She’d drawn them herself, in class. Steel studs and loops pierced her ears, rings adorned every finger, and eight or nine amulets hung from her neck. Christian, Jewish, Pagan, Celtic, Egyptian... she wore them all. On her belt she carried a PDA, a cellphone, lockpicks, and a sheathed dagger of cold iron. Couldn’t be too careful.

            She wasn’t immune to all sorts of trouble. There was a hell of a lot of trouble in New York City, and... elsewhere.

            The dagger had been a real bitch to get. She’d searched for a year, before, eventually, she’d found a smith in the Society for Creative Anachronism who’d been willing to make it for her, but she had to pay a year’s allowance. He’d carved her dagger from pure, genuine, bona fide meteorite iron. She’d paid so much for it- for that price, she wanted to make sure she hadn’t been swindled. She’d gone right to the ladies' room and touched the blade. It was legit; the blisters had taken the better part of a week to fade.

            So, never a fool twice, Chloe had taken up the habit of donning leather gloves before going out. The gloves reminded her vaguely of her childhood babysitter, although her babysitter’s gloves had served an entirely different purpose. Chloe, usually one to take chances, didn’t always take chances.

            Usually she preferred to wear fingerless gloves, even though they weren’t as practical. She wore those now, and her black leather jacket with fringe. She ran a comb through her unkempt hair, pulling it back, and slipped an elastic around her ponytail.

            She skipped downstairs. Her little brother Adrian was sitting at the kitchen table, doing his homework. He looked a lot like Mum. She didn’t look like Mum, certainly not with her hair dyed black. She looked like... like... like no one in particular.

            “Hey Chloe, can you help me with my book report?”

            “Later.”

            “But it’s due on Monday.”

            “That’s three whole days. You read the book, right?”

            He nodded. She popped two styrofoam-wrapped dinners into the microwave.

            “Then it’s all cool,” she said. “Look, if I don’t get to it, I’ll hand it in for you, OK?”

            He sighed. “No, I wanna hand it in myself this time.”

            “Whatever.”

            Adrian went back to studying his spelling list. The microwave beeped, and Chloe dropped one of the meals in front of him.

            “Dinner.”

            “Why don’t you ever cook?” he asked.

            “Why don’t you, poopyhead?”

            “You’re the big sis.”

            “Maybe they’ll teach you to cook in prep school.”

            Adrian, only eight, was planning to attend pre-preparatory boarding school in England the next year. Her Mum and stepdad had reasoned thus: since Chloe had done so well there, after all, why not send Adrian, too? To Chloe, prep schools were a nuisance, one of the biggest wastes of time and money that humanity had ever dreamed up. As if she’d ever set foot in that dreadful place. She wasn’t about to tell Mum where she’d really gone for those two years, when she was a little older than Adrian. They even still thought she’d been going to England for summer camp ever since she was seven. Hahaha.

            She’d memorized the school’s literature, though, and had returned home with a British accent, even if it was 16th century. Close enough for her Mum, who didn’t notice, of course. What a surprise Adrian would get, she reasoned, when no one at the school remembered her. She ate her meal quickly and in silence.

            Adrian not only looked like Mum, he acted like Mum, too. He worked too much. His room was too clean, too dreadfully organized. He did his chores. Chloe couldn’t remember if she had chores or not. She wasn’t going to do them, regardless.

            She went and found her Mum’s purse.

            “Where are you going?” asked Adrian, hearing her in the hall and following.

            “Out.”

            “You can’t drive.”

            “Of course I can. I went to the lesson last week.”

            “I’ll tell Mum.”

            “You go and do that. See if I care.”

            “You’ll get into an accident.”

            “As if. Hell’ll freeze over first.”

            “You’re leaving me alone, again?” he asked.

            “You’ll be fine. Don’t open the door for strangers.”

            “Chloe...” he whined.

            “Your Dad’ll probably be home soon now, anyway.”

            He protested, but she waved goodbye and slammed the door. She jumped in the new 2004 Toyota parked in the driveway. Keys, right. Turn the ignition, put it in reverse, whatever, oh hell, the car is just gonna work anyway. She pulled out of the driveway and sped off to her boyfriend’s house, missing every single red light.

            Driving was fun. She hit the accelerator, and felt her emotions rush like the scenery outside. She screamed, opened the windows and blasted the radio.

            When she got to his house, she honked the horn, and three boys came running out. Her boyfriend, James “The Rock” Peterson, senior class rebel, climbed in the seat beside her. He wore a black shirt with a skull on it, and too much gel in his spiky hair. His buddies got in the back.

            “Nice wheels,” Rock told her.

            “Chloe, I can’t believe we let you drive,” said Skip, a red-haired junior with freckles, leaning forward.

            “I could fly a jet,” Chloe shot back.

            “You’re sixteen.”

            “This Toyota could win the Indie 500 with me at the wheel.”

            “Bullshit.”

            Chloe laughed.

            Spielberg, a senior with glasses, pulled out a cigarette and asked where they were going.

            “Beer?” suggested Skip.

            “A club?” offered Spielberg.

            “Chloe, how about it?” asked Rock.

            Chloe, as usual, made the final decisions. Good luck charm, that’s what her friend Chelsea called her. No one ever got in trouble as long as Chloe was around. That was just that.

            “OK, but I’m getting the beer first,” she said, “and no drinks at the club unless I buy ‘em, or else you’ll be busted.” She turned around in the seat and looked at her friends sternly. “Got it?”

            “Yeah, yeah.”

            “And no coming into the store to find me.”

            “Righto.”

            They hit the liquor store. Chloe took her Mum’s purse and went inside. She grabbed two six-packs and carried them to the checkout line. A familiar woman’s voice caught her ear.

            “Janine?”

            Oh, shit.

            Chloe turned around in line to look at the woman behind her. Kathy Vizha, her Mum’s close friend, was standing there with a bottle of wine.

            “Hi Kathy,” Chloe said.

            “Janine! It’s been so long! How have you been?”

            “Um, fine.”

            “How are the kids?”

            Chloe thought fast. “Oh, Chloe’s all right, like always, and Adrian’s working really hard to get into prep school in England next year, you know.”

            “Like Chloe!”

            “Yes, just like Chloe.”

            “Where does she want to go to college?”

            “She hasn’t decided yet. Maybe Columbia. And you? How are your kids?”

            Kathy bragged about her children as Chloe slapped her Mum’s driver’s license down on the counter next to some cash. In all of New York City, she had to run into someone her Mum knew. It was damn weird. Chloe grabbed her items.

            “Look, it’s been nice chatting, but I’m in a hurry. I’ll talk to you later, OK Kathy?”

            “Sure, you know my number.”

            Chloe hurried to the car.

            “I got the beer,” she told her friends. “You guys pay me back for what you drink.”

            “Chloe, how do you keep doing this?” asked Skip.

            “I know people.”

            “Bullshit, Chloe.”

            “Kiss my ass, Skip.”

            She opened her beer and drank it en route to the club. They ran into no traffic, nor red lights. The line outside the club went around the block, mostly college kids dressed as goths and punks, boys in dog collars and girls in spike heels. Bodices, blue hair, mohawks, and lots of black.

            “We stick together, remember that?” Chloe reminded them.

            “Right.”

            “And let me do the talking?”

            “Right.”

            There was a parking spot close by, coincidentally, exactly where Chloe wanted. She parallel parked, took two bucks from her Mum’s purse, pocketed the keys, and left everything else in the car. She didn’t even bother to lock the door. They walked the block to the club, jaywalked through traffic and headed right for the main entrance.

            Good, it’s a new bouncer, she thought, seeing the man at the door. She flicked her hair, grinned slyly, and strutted up to him.

            The bouncer, tall and muscular, wore a tight black shirt, and his hair in a crew cut. She slid up to him, and winked, and his mouth dropped open. The other men in line couldn’t help but stare, looking her up and down. A couple of them got hit by their girlfriends, who also stared.

            “Hello there, handsome,” she began, to the bouncer. “How are you today?”

            He just stared at her, then muttered something that sounded like OK.

            “I’ve got a little... something for you.” She discreetly slipped the bills into his hand. He looked down at them.

            “Jesus! This must be two thousand...”

            “Hush, hush. Think you could do me a favor? I’m just dying to dance tonight.”

            “Of course... right this way, my lady.” He opened the door for her, bowing deeply. Her three friends followed closely on her heels.

            “Presto, boys,” she mouthed, and gestured, once they got inside. “Such a gentleman.”

            Rock looked back to the door, worried.

            “Was that really Britney Spears?” he heard someone ask.

            “You idiot, can’t you recognize J. Lo?”

            “J. Lo? You moron-”

            The sound of rock music assaulted them as they descended the stairs into the club. They danced until they lost track of time, among the flashing lights and smoke and techno sounds. A man sidled up to Chloe. He had long hair and a pierced nose. Chloe didn’t like something about him.

            “Hey, pretty.”

            “Hey.” His contact lenses looked psychedelic. “Trippy eyes.”

            “Thank you.” They began to dance, pressed against each other. He reached around, as if to spin her.

            “And give me back the keys to my Mum’s car.” She snatched the keys out of his hand with lightning reflexes. “I don’t drink with you, or sleep with you, or anything else, got it? No one picks my pocket.”

            “How did those get in my hand?”

            “Give it up. I know that game. And by the way, here’s your wallet back. You dropped it.”

            “I... what?”

            She held out his wallet, and dropped it on the dance floor. “You dropped it. Oops.”

            He bent down to get it, and she shook her head went back to dancing with her friends.

            A little before midnight by her watch, she decided to leave. Her friends told jokes and drank the rest of the beer all the way back to Rock’s place.

            “Hey Skip, Spielberg, where are you staying?” she asked.

            “We left our cars at Rock’s.”

            “Like hell you’re driving.”

            “Huh?”

            “You’re drunk. Forget it. No one drives under the influence but me around here.”

            “Why?”

            “Because I’m a good luck charm and you’re not.”

            “Chloe...”

            “I can drop you off at home. You can get your cars tomorrow.” Her friends whined and complained, but eventually agreed.

            _I don’t care what anyone calls me for it_ , she thought as she dropped them off in turn. _Maybe I take after my Mum too much, but I don’t care what anyone says. I care about humanity, about people, about consequences. People are people, not toys. Maybe I’m a wuss for it, a partypooper, a foolish mortal, but everyone has their loyalties and my friends and family are mine._

_Yeah, my family. Yeah, Chloe, shut up, I know it’s ironic._

            She got home by 12:30. A cat mewed by her door.

            “Hello, Princess,” she said, bending over and stroking the black cat. “Are you hungry?”

            The cat looked up at her with large, yellow eyes, and licked its mouth.

            “I’ve got just the thing for you,” she said. “A bowl of milk and a can of tuna. How’s that sound?”

            The cat meowed again.

            She opened the door and went to the kitchen, passing Adrian at the table. She grabbed the can of tuna.

            What was Adrian doing up this late?

            She spun like lightning, her heart pounding in her chest. That wasn’t Adrian at all. She stared at the artificial half-brother, typing his book report. That was no boy at all, but an animated bundle of sticks and leaves and magic. It’d be dead by morning.

            “Shit!”

            She began to panic. Still holding the can of tuna and wearing her coat, she bolted up the stairs to her Mum and stepdad’s bedroom, where they both slept quietly.

            Don’t open the door for strangers.

            Some strangers don’t need doors.

            This is bad bad bad.

            She ran back to the kitchen, and thought fast. OK, it’s better if we both disappear than if they find him dead, she reasoned. She took the boy to the backyard, where she removed the glamour and scattered the leaves.

            I gotta get him back. Bloody politics. I gotta find whoever did this and bust his ass. I gotta...

            But why Adrian? She ran back to the house, grabbed some paper and wrote a note to her Mum and stepdad. “Adrian is with me. We’ll be fine. Love, Chloe.”

            Why Adrian?

            There was only one of me to go around, and two of them...

            I’ve been even about it, I swear!

            The universe will be out of whack for at least forty more years...

            She remembered her cat, opened the front door and let it in. She gave it the milk and tuna. Never hurts to be nice.

            Then she went out behind the house, found a tree and knocked politely three times.

            _Remove your dagger, changeling._

            She dropped it by the foot of the tree.

            _Proceed._

            She walked through the bark. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chloe felt the world fall away, and for a moment she was weightless. She caught her breath, suddenly surrounded by soft, still, warm air, a shock in contrast to the chilly New York winter. Her bare feet touched grass, night became day, and a tingling sense of belonging, of coming home, flowed through her body.

She found herself in a glittering field of gold, green and pastel, surrounded by luminous twilight, even though no star shone in the azure sky. Trees stood around her, their leaves sparkling with lights, their flowers glowing as tiny fiery jewels.

Her eyes were dazzled, but only for a moment, only for the same split second it had taken her to realize that her brother was an impostor. The truth was always there, behind the veil, stark and cold, callous. This land was no garden of Eden; it was a world wholly alien, of false exquisite form, superficial beauty, a realm of elemental jest. It was but a chess game. Faerie was a dimension of rules, of politics, where creativity as Chloe knew it was foreign and coveted. The beings of this plane could no more break the rules of their dimension than humans could stop creating, loving, making war and desiring domination over the whole earth.

Here dwelt beings of enormous power, without regard for human laws, bound not to the physical, but to the rigid, ruthless games of their nature.

Chloe went looking for Adrian. She maintained the glamour she wore, of her human form, so as not to scare Adrian when she found him. Maybe she could convince him that he’d really been on an acid trip. Maybe she could convince him it had been a dream. Or maybe she’d have to tell him the truth, after all.

How would he take it? How would Mum take it, if she found out the truth after all these years? Mum understood nothing of folklore. Or history, or dreams, or mythology, or philosophy.

Humans had persecuted faeries. The Church had killed those of Fey blood. True, that was centuries ago, but still... human nature.

It was her human nature that made her care about her Mum at all. As she wandered through the forests of magnificence and mockery, waded though the twinkling streams over pebbles of semiprecious stones, she felt a wave of whim, and she would have stayed and played with Adrian, happy in the golden twilight.

But there was Mum, and his dad Steve, her stepdad. There was Rock, back in New York. There was humanity, there were concerts, there was art. There were parties, and pranks, and mischief. There was creativity.

There was loyalty to Mum, and Steve, and her friends. There was loyalty to her Dad, and he lived in New York, not Faerie. There was loyalty to Adrian.

So she would go home, again. She might belong in Faerie, but Adrian did not. How could she be loyal to her family and leave him there?

She gave herself a derisive snort. Loyalty when no favors had been rendered. Such a human concept. What had Adrian, or Mum, or Steve really done for her, anyway? Or Rock, or Skip, or Chelsea, or Spielberg, or most of her other friends? Nothing. She did for them. She enjoyed doing for them.

_Such a human. Such a silly, foolish human._ She could almost hear her Dad laughing at her in her mind, scolding her mockingly.

She found a dwelling of glittering, living wood, twisted bows making the walls, leaves crowning the roof. Here stood her other home, the house of the only mother she’d ever really had. Her Mum may have borne her, in great cosmic jest, but she certainly hadn’t raised her.

Chloe had been raised by her cat. Not by Princess, no, by her other cat. The cat who wasn’t really a cat at all.

Chloe knocked on the trunk by the entrance.

“Meow?”

“It’s me, Chloe.”

A sweet old woman, with the head of a cat, clad in a simple dress and apron, looked up from her hearth, where she was cooking some stew. Although a fire burned in the hearth, it consumed no wood, and the room remained a delightful temperature. They stood indoors, but the light was as bright as outside. There was no darkness, no night, in Faerie.

“Chloe! I wasn’t expecting you this time of year!” She embraced Chloe warmly, purring.

Chloe wasted no time. “I need your help, Bastet. They’ve taken Adrian.”

“Sit down, have some stew first.”

“I’m afraid it might be too late.”

“Nothing’s too late child, all can be arranged. Have some stew.”

Chloe couldn’t resist a warm, steaming bowl of faerie stew, so she consented and sat down at the table. It was truly delicious, far better than any in the mortal realm, even in New York. She gobbled it up quickly.

“Who took him?” asked Bastet, sitting down across from her.

“That’s what I came here to find out.”

“How do you know he’s in Faerie?”

“They left a simulacrum.”

“I see. That’s bad.”

“Isn’t it.”

Bastet sighed. “There might not be anything you can do, in that case, unless someone owes you a favor.”

“Dad still does.”

Bastet looked at Chloe in wonder. “Well, child, that could prove very useful.”

Chloe put the bowl down. “I came here to find Adrian and tell him I was going to try and get him back, that everything’s going to be OK.”

“It might not. From his perspective, that is.”

“But I have to try.”

“Yes, that is your human nature, isn’t it.” Bastet poured Chloe seconds, and offered her some bread. Chloe took it eagerly, then realized she was getting sleepy.

“I’m exhausted,” she said. “But I have to find him.”

“I’ll inquire for you at Court. I have a feeling that’s where he is. I think you have the same feeling.”

Chloe nodded.

“And right now,” Bastet continued, “I’m a bit more welcome there than you are, unless you have something of great value that I don’t know about.”

Chloe shook her head.

“Then you get some sleep and I’ll see you when you awake.”

Chloe knew good advice when she heard it. She thanked Bastet for the food, went to the patch of soft moss in the corner and lay down. It was good to have someone in Faerie she could ask for help without repercussions, someone with whom she could dine without consequences. Although Bastet now lived in Faerie, she made exceptions for Chloe, since Chloe loved cats, and had been a child in her care. Chloe maintained one of the only shrines to Bastet in all of New York City, and Bastet was kind. When Chloe had reached adolescence, and was therefore no longer a little child, Bastet had still remained close to her, and Chloe was thankful for that. She drifted off to sleep, to dreams.

When she awoke, she instinctively looked at her watch. It had stopped. Right... she was in Faerie.

“Bast?”

“I’m right here, child.”

The goddess came in from outside, with a handful of vegetables from the garden.

“Did you find him?” Chloe asked.

“Yes, but I was not allowed to see him. He is in the possession of the Lord Auberon.” Bastet put the vegetables on the table, and began cutting them.

“Why? Did you ask them why?” Chloe jumped to her feet.

“Apparently the Lord Auberon feels you favor the Lady Titania.”

“I do not!”

“He thinks so, child. I am sorry, there is nothing more that I can do for you.” Bastet put some of the vegetables into a clay pot, and resumed cutting the others.

“I played with them equally, like I promised my Dad. Right now he and Titania are exactly even, with respect to my time.”

Bastet shook her head. “Well, Chloe, perhaps he just wanted something she doesn’t have. It’s their nature. If he couldn’t have you more than she did, he’d have your brother all to himself.”

“What am I gonna tell Mum?”

“I don’t know, child. But there’s nothing more I can do for you. You said your Dad owed you a favor. I suggest you call that due.”

“So he can piss off Lord Auberon even more?”

“That’s not your concern, is it? Or have you lived with humans so much you’ve forgotten how things work around here?”

Chloe sighed. “No, I haven’t forgotten anything.” She stretched. “Thank you.”

“Stay for breakfast.”

Chloe did. She knew a few more hours wouldn’t make any difference. They ate porridge with vegetables, and faerie fruits. Then they went outside and picked berries, for pies, and collected nuts for muffins. Eventually, she thanked Bastet for her hospitality, and took the portal back to New York City.

She sheathed her knife again, and took the bus to Central Park.


	3. Chapter 3

The bright noon sunshine in January, in New York, held none of the radiant warmth of the sky in Faerie. Chloe shivered and wished she’d brought her hat. The trees were bare, the pavement cold. Some snow sat on the ground, and the grass was brown.

Home, again, to the metropolitan world of synthetic nature, artificial magic, the realm where life itself was a computerized, mechanized mockery of the Fey.

Why did she love New York so much? The selfish creativity, the altruistic fools, the cold glass and steel of industry? Why did she miss the honk of horns, the bright lights, the cement and asphalt and fiber-optic cable?

Which was colder, she wondered, the calculated illusion of summer in Faerie or the technological, impersonal winter of New York?

Glamours, computers, it was all the same in the end. All glittered in cold imitation.

She found a park bench and sat down. She knew what she had to do, she just dreaded it. She hated being teased for her humanity, mocked for caring. What would he say about her compassion for Adrian? Probably nothing good.

But a favor was a favor. He was bound by that.

She closed her eyes and concentrated really hard.

“Thou callst, daughter dear?”

Her father had taken recently to mocking her with the use of the informal, emotional pronoun “thou,” used in Elizabethan times to show status, anger, condescension or affection. He addressed her as “thou” as if to show their “closeness,” which Chloe felt was only half genuine, at best. Condescension was a little closer.

“You owe me a favor.” She looked up at the nondescript man in a gray jacket, and through the glamour, to the brown hobgoblin beneath. She was rather sure the passers-by saw no one there at all.

“That’s hardly a way to greet dear Dad, my little Chloe,” he scolded, laughing, putting a foot up on the bench, mockingly. “Manners.”

“Very well, how are you?” She didn’t care.

“Couldn’t say I’m doing poor, sometimes less, sometimes more. Thou?”

“Pretty damn sucky, actually.”

“Aw.” He paced around her. “Pity thou art feeling blue, but what’s a chap like me to do?”

“Help me get my brother back.”

“Your brother? I follow thee not.”

“Janine’s son.”

He laughed. “Oh, a mortal! Thou knowst my opinion of them.”

“You owe me a favor.”

His smile fell a bit. “Tis true, is it not.” He began to fidget. “Mightest thou ask me for something else...?”

“No.”

He thought for a moment. “Very well,” he said reluctantly, “make thy demands, that I may be presently free of my debt to thee.”

“Last night he was kidnapped and taken to Faerie, to the court of the Lord Auberon. I kept my promise to you, and played it even, but Auberon decided to snatch my brother to one-up Titania.”

“I see.”

“Help me get him back.”

The hobgoblin sighed. “Ooh, that’s... big.”

Chloe waited as he paced back and forth, muttering to himself in strange rhymes. At length, he stopped in front of her, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“If thou art truly not afraid, I know a trinket thou canst trade.”

“Speak,” she demanded. He looked at her critically. “Please,” she added.

“Very well.” He began,

“There was a gem, shaped as a tear,

Titania loved it very dear.

Auberon bid me steal it away,

that he could return it another day.

But alas, although I did not stop,

the jewel it seems that I did drop.

I thought when we did quit this plane,

she’d never see the jewel again.

But there I made a small mistake,

it seems a duke the jewel did take.”

He handed her a piece of paper.

She looked it at. A URL was scribbled on it.

“A website? But Dad-” She looked up, but he was gone.

She quickly entered the address into her PDA, and just in time, as the paper crumbled to dust a moment later.

She was thankful that in New York, no one paid any attention to people who talked to thin air. She got back on the bus.

***** 

Rock stood in the schoolyard after classes got out, smoking a cigarette with some friends. She ran up to him.

“Chloe!” he exclaimed. “Cutting everything today?”

“We’ve got to talk. I need your help. Bad.”

“Sure, honey... what’s up?”

She pulled him aside, and pushed him to the other side of the schoolyard, by the basketball hoop. “This is private, and very important.”

“Hey! Don’t push!” His friends laughed behind them.

“I’ll push whomever I want. My brother’s in big trouble. Big ass trouble. You’ve gotta help me.”

“Adrian? The nerd?”

“Can you meet me at Sammy’s Cafe at four?”

“Sure... what’s up?”

“I’ll tell you then. I’ve gotta do a web search.” He called out after her, confused, but she ran to the school library. She found a free computer and typed in the address. This had better work, she thought, though she already knew it would.

She reached the site of a museum in London, the British Museum. After ten minutes of searching the exhibit pages, she found what she was looking for: a brooch that had belonged to the Duke of Norford (or something like that), with a beautiful tear-shaped ruby in the center.

“Thanks, Dad...” she muttered. “But now I have to rob a museum. Damn you, too.”

She could almost hear him laugh. That’s my little girl!

She headed to Sammy’s Cafe, taking a printout of the jewel with her. Rock was sitting in a booth. She ordered a milkshake, and joined him.

“You’re on time!” he exclaimed.

“This is really important.”

“Shoot.”

“My brother was kidnapped last night.”

Rock’s brown eyes widened in shock. “Did you call the cops?”

“The cops have no jurisdiction where they took him.”

“Outta New York? You could call the FBI.”

“The FBI has no jurisdiction, either.”

“Jesus, did they take him out of the country?”

“Yeah.”

Rock cursed. “Who nabbed him?”

“I can’t... tell you that just now. But I need your help.”

“Did you join a gang, Chloe?”

She laughed, loudly and a little too shrilly. “No!” She slapped her hand on the table. “Of course not!”

Her boyfriend looked at her, very confused. At length, she stopped laughing.

“Chloe, I thought nothing bad ever happens to you.”

“Well... nothing has. This is to him. And it isn’t really bad, from... from some perspectives.”

He looked at her, very confused. “How can I help?”

“They’re holding him for ransom, like. They want this.” She showed him the printout. He read the paper carefully.

His voiced dropped to serious tones. “This is in a museum in England, Chloe.”

“And we gotta get it.”

“And you gotta tell me what the hell is going on here.”

The waitress brought her milkshake, and she took a sip. She hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. What could she tell him?

_Hey Rock, remember that big ass power out we had last summer? The one that took out power in all of New England? Well, uh, it wasn’t my idea! I don’t dream up stuff of that magnitude. I do paper airplanes in school. Remember that time in science class where Ms. O’Neil showed us slides, and every third one was of a llama? That was me. I don’t dream up ways to cut power to most of New England and a good chunk of Canada. That’s not my style. I swear._

_Well, anyway, you know what really happened? OK, so I can’t tell you, but I was... uh, I was there. And it was caused by hobgoblins. OK, not by hobgoblins plural, but by, uh, a certain hobgoblin. Who happens to be my father. Yeah. Of course, I was... away... that summer, but he came to find me because he needed my help to pull it off. And he knew I would help because I’ve got this hangup about loyalty to my family. This stupid human hangup. And because then he’d owe me a favor, and well, where I come from, that’s, that’s really valuable. So I made him promise no one would die, or get hurt, and then I’d help out with the giant power out. He made fun of me, but promised. So I helped. And now I’m glad I did because if I hadn’t, I’d never be able to get my brother back._

_Think of it a little like father-daughter bonding. Some dads take their kids to the county fair. My Dad orchestrates major power outs in New York City. At the county fair, my Dad would break all the rides and steal all the kids._

_It’s not my fault!_

_So, Rock, in English class, did you ever read Shakespeare? Like, A Midsummer Night’s Dream? Yeah, the short one, with the blue cover. You probably read it, it was really short. You at least read the Cliff’s Notes, right?_

_No Rock, I never said my Dad was gay. I said my Mum got drunk and had a one night stand with a fairy. I really meant a fairy. I didn’t lie to you, I mislead you, and you misunderstood. There’s an important distinction there. I told you I don’t see my Dad much; he’s trouble. Well, I meant he’s Trouble, capital T, trademark. Like, Mischief incarnate._

_Back to Shakespeare. So you remember Puck? That’s my Dad. Except he’s a lot more devious in real life, and he lives in New York now. Shakespeare sanitized him real good. And you remember the King and Queen of the fairies? Well, guess what, the fairy King’s got my little brother._

_Call the FBI? Even the X-Files doesn’t go there._

_Fairies are not like they’re made out to be in kiddie movies. This isn’t Disney. No G rating here. Disney is a mockery of true fairies, some of whom poke out eyes and kidnap travelers and eat little children for breakfast. They can be quite nasty._

_Yes, Rock, you heard right, I’m half-Fey. My real name, not my legal name, but my real name is Chloe Russell Goodfellow..._

_But I can’t tell you any of this._

Chloe sipped her milkshake again, and looked up at Rock. “OK, I’ll tell you what I can.”

Rock nodded.

“My little brother’s been abducted by aliens from another dimension.”

It was Rock’s turn to laugh. “Chloe, you really had me going there, for a moment.”

“I’m kinda being serious, Rock. They’re not human, and they don’t live on earth. That much is true, anyway.”

“So, Martian thugs?”

“No... they’re not thugs, and they’re more like from Dimension F.”

“F.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you on drugs?”

“No.”

“Bullshit, Chloe. You need to lie down, and drink some water. You’re tripping.”

“No, Rock, I’m not, and I need your help.”

“I can help you by getting you to a place where you can lie down.”

Chloe reached across the table and grabbed his hands earnestly. “No, Rock, listen to me. I’ve done you a hundred favors. I buy you beer. I get you into clubs. I get you out of detention. I got you on the football team. I make the teachers take your papers when they’re off-topic. You owe me a hundred times over.”

He just stared at her.

“And you’re human,” she muttered, “so that means nothing at all. OK... Rock, if you love me, you’ll help me.”

“Help you get detoxed, sure, not rob a museum.”

“I’ll prove it to you. Rock, how do you think I get beer?”

“You know people.”

She shook her head. “Naah, Skip was right, that’s bullshit. So I take my Mum’s ID, right? And then I do this.”

One instant Rock was looking at Chloe, and the next, he was staring at Mrs. Russell.

He screamed and jumped back, but he sat in the booth, so he ended up just cowering against it.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Cool trick, isn’t it?” asked Mrs. Russell, in her own voice, not Chloe’s. “You’re the only one who can see this. How do you think I get you into clubs? The bouncer doesn’t notice you. And how do you think I bribe him with two measly bucks?”

She was Chloe again.

“Chloe, I think I’m the one who’s tripping.”

“No, I’m special. And my brother’s been kidnapped and I need your help getting him back.”

He stared at her, shaking slightly, jaw open. “Uh huh, this is too weird for me.”

“If you help me, Rock, you can get something you want... I know! Your Dad’s got leukemia. If you help me out, they can cure him.”

“Who can?”

“The... aliens.”

“From Dimension F.”

“Yes. Your Dad can be there for your college graduation, and your wedding, and your kids’ weddings.”

On the other hand, Chloe mused, my wedding is gonna be a sight, a real affair to remember, something to write home about. I can’t not invite my Dad, that’d be a terrible insult. And if I do invite him, the other guests are going to have a... special... time, indeed.

She’d read about wedding disasters in magazines. Nothing. They didn’t have Puck in the immediate family.

I’ll deal with that when I’m older. Yeah.

“Please, Rock?” she begged. “You don’t have to do any of the actual stealing. Leave that to me, I can pass in there undetected, I think, and even if I can’t, nothing bad happens to me. I just need someone there with me. For my sake. I haven’t been to England since I was five.”

“I thought you go there every summer.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“You went to school there.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Where did you go, then?”

She smirked. “Dimension F.”

“So then why don’t you just go over there to Dimension F and call the cops there or something?”

“They don’t have cops. And I said, it’s like they’re holding him for ransom. They want this jewel.”

Rock sighed. “Shit, Chloe, this is really serious. This isn’t cutting class and smoking dope. I’ll spend the rest of my life in jail if caught.”

“You won’t be caught. You’ll be with me. And I’ll do all the robbing. You can hang out in the hotel room. Just fly with me to England. Please. Keep me company.”

“Hush, hush, we’re in public.”

“Whatever.”

Rock shook his head. “Promise I won’t do any robbing?” he whispered.

“Promise. Just go there with me. I’ll even work it out so the teachers think you’re out sick. Please.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“But I’d have to pack!”

“Just throw some stuff together,” she said. “I’ll take care of the money. We can buy what we need over there, and leave it when we come home.”

“OK, but only on one condition.”

“What?”

“That you tell me how you did that trick to look like your Mom. The whole truth.”

Chloe took a long sip of her milkshake. “OK,” she said, hesitating, “but you’re the first person I’ve told in ten years.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Hello? This is Mrs. Peterson speaking. My son Jamie has the flu, and the doctor says he shouldn’t come into school for at least a week.”

Rock shook his head as he heard Chloe speaking into the payphone. This was madness, utter madness.

Chloe eventually hung up. “Don’t worry, the secretary heard your Mum’s voice.”

“What about my parents, though? They’re going to miss me.”

“Let’s go to your house, for dinner. Let me talk to them.”

They walked back to the bus stop, Chloe strutting on the curb like it was a balance beam. Her gait was perfect. She didn’t even have to look down, or keep her arms out.

I’m good at walking lines, she thought, as the cars rushed past to her left. Borders and edges and razors.

“So you mean to tell me you’re half-human?” Rock asked.

“I prefer to think of myself as half-Fey, at least here.”

“Why?”

“Because humans are the majority around here. Over there, I’m half-human. You know Candy? How her Mum is Chinese and her Dad’s American, and white? Well, over here in America, we say she’s Chinese, or half-Chinese. In China, they call her white.”

Rock nodded. Chloe continued. “You notice only the parts of me that aren’t so human. How I can look like other people, for example. How I don’t get into trouble. There, I get teased all the time about being so human. Not that they don’t like humans, in a sense. They sort of do. They love children. And they love half-Fey because we’re enough like them that we fit in, yet really exotic at the same time. And we’re creative. That’s important.”

“Why?”

“Because forces of nature aren’t. The blizzard doesn’t choose to happen. The earthquake doesn’t decide to destroy this building or that one. Humans create art. Elements don’t.”

“So, Dimension F. What happened to A through E?”

Chloe laughed. “I was being silly. F stands for Faerie.”

“Ah.”

She was pretty sure Rock didn’t believe her, but it didn’t matter. She darted around a pole in her path and kept on walking. “I’m also magical because I know I am.”

“Isn’t that circular reasoning?”

“Nope. I’ve always just done stuff. Dunno.” She suddenly turned left and strutted confidently across the street, twenty feet from the crosswalk, right through traffic, and all the cars stopped, or swerved around her. Rock followed closely behind.

“See? They’ll never hit me.”

“Why?”

“Because I know they won’t. I could dance a jig on the freeway.” They passed by some cafes and stores, until they got to the bus stop. “And the iron thing is true, by the way.”

“What iron thing?”

“I can’t touch iron. Steel’s no prob, nor any alloy or compound. But pure iron, like the kind that comes from meteorites, is bad.”

“What happens?” asked Rock.

“Hurts like hell. Burns my flesh, and feels like burning and freezing at the same time.”

“Shit.”

“And that’s ‘cuz I’m only half-Fey. It could kill one of pure blood.” The bus pulled up, and they got onboard. “If I’d only been there when they came for Adrian, they would have found serious resistance. Political as well as physical.”

“Adrian’s human?”

“One hundred percent.”

“And why did they take him?”

“Why do politicians lie? Why do leaves fall in winter? Why are our troops in Iraq?” Chloe shrugged. “We all have games to play, rules to follow.”

The bus traveled for fifteen minutes, before Chloe and Rock got off and walked to his house.

“Look,” said Chloe, “I need some printer paper, a scissors, and a pen, OK?”

“Sure, why?”

“You’ll see.”

The Petersons were having Chinese food that night. Chloe, a very gracious guest, put on her best human manners. Faerie manners were different. She didn’t have to owe the Petersons a favor.

She thanked both of Rock’s parents, and then, before the delivery arrived, Chloe went into Rock’s room and cut up some paper into roughly dollar bill shaped rectangles. She wrote 100 on some of them, then went on the web and looked up British notes. Oops, there were no 100s. Those would become the American ones, then. She then read on the web that British shopkeepers would be wary of 50s, so she made 20s. Lots of 20s.

“The more we use,” she told Rock, “the more money we make, in change.”

Dad would be proud.

“And if they catch us?” Rock asked.

“It takes a few hours, sometimes a full day for the glamour to wear off. And besides, how do they catch someone they can’t see, or who looks like someone else?”

“But the passport.”

“I’m not going on my own passport, stupid. And neither are you.”

“But they track these things now,” said Rock.

“Then we fly invisible, like the CIA people do. A hundred people get on the plane, a hundred two get off. We’ll just get on a plane with two free seats.”

“But how are you getting a ticket?”

Chloe grabbed some paper, cut it out, and scribbled something on it, then did the same for another piece of paper of the same size. “Like this.” She held it up.

“Geez, that’s a ticket! And a boarding pass!”

The glamour vanished, leaving two pieces of paper, one of which read “ticket” and another which read “boarding pass.”

“Chloe, you’re cool.”

She smirked. “Thanks, I guess. It works better if you hand a person a couple of bills, I don’t know why. Like how I made that bouncer think two bills were twenty 100s. I would have had more trouble with just one.”

She folded some papers, cut them and stapled them together, and hence made two “passports.”

“What if they need to run these tickets and papers through some sort of machine?”

“They won’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I‘m lucky like that.”

She pocketed all the papers. They went down to dinner. Chloe ate a spring roll and some sesame chicken with steamed vegetables. Halfway through the meal, she said, “I’m sure you’re gonna miss Jamie a lot, huh.”

“What do you mean, Chloe?” asked Rock’s mother.

“The field trip.”

“What field trip?” asked his father.

“Rock’s history class is going to Washington,” she said, and when his parents inquired, she made up a long story about it, and chided her boyfriend for not telling his parents. She went on and on about all the places he was going to visit, and how she was so jealous, and how she was going to miss him terribly for the next week.

“Rock, I know you’re eighteen now,” Chloe said, “and you can sign your own permission slips, but honestly, what did you expect to do, just vanish without telling your parents? That’s not very nice.” She stood, found his backpack in the corner, and dug through it. “Ah. Here it is. The least you can do is show your parents the school permission slip. Sorry this one’s not signed, Rock lost it and got a second copy, and signed that one.”

Rock saw Chloe hand his parents his old math homework. They read it carefully.

“Oh! This seems so exciting!” said his Mom. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I... uh...”

“I don’t get it, Rock,” said Chloe. “You can be a rebel without being stupid. They’d be worried, you know. You can be independent when you get to college. Silly boy.”

“The Smithsonian’s an excellent museum,” said his father. “And you’re visiting the Capitol! I see here that the school’s paying for room and board, and the plane fare, but why don’t you take some spending cash.” He handed his son two hundred dollars. “Buy some souvenirs.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, really, Mr. Peterson,” protested Chloe.

“I insist.”

She looked to Rock, and he took the cash.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“This is so short notice! I’ll help you pack, Jamie,” said his Mom. “Unless you’ve already done that, too?”

“No, not yet, thanks.”

Chloe took the “permission slip” and stuffed it back into her boyfriend’s backpack.

***** 

That night, Rock’s mother helped him pack, while Chloe returned to her own home. She entered quietly, making sure no one in the house could see or hear her. Princess meowed when she walked by, and Chloe wondered if the cat could sense her. She wasn’t sure. She’d have to ask Bastet some day.

Her Mum was in the kitchen, on the phone with some relative or friend, asking if she and Adrian were over there. Chloe shut the door to her room without a sound. She grabbed a bag and filled it with some clothes, mostly underwear and socks, and took her toiletries. She’d get soap and shampoo in London, in the hotel. She could buy clothes there. It didn’t matter what she bought, or if it fit perfectly, she could make rags look like a ballgown.

And be out past midnight, too.

She was used to bringing nothing with her when she traveled, but that’s because she only went regularly to Faerie, where she didn’t need anything. So, to Chloe, bringing a bag at all was packing a lot. Too much, in fact.

She remembered the first time she had gone to Faerie, or as her Mum thought of it, summer camp. She’d only been seven, and her Mum was more than a little worried about putting her on a plane all by herself to London. Bastet, then still in cat form, had accompanied them in the car all the way to the airport, but was not allowed inside. Bastet would meet her in Faerie, of course, but Chloe was scared (and excited). Her Mum had packed her this massive suitcase she couldn’t pull. She wandered with her Mum through the huge airport.

Eventually they’d reached the proper terminal, and gate, and there Chloe had seen an emissary of the Lady Titania, sitting in one of the airport chairs, looking for her. Her Mum saw a woman with a sign, reading the name of the supposed summer camp, and handed Chloe over.

Chloe waved goodbye, and when her Mum had left, Chloe and the emissary had walked through a secluded wall.

She’d brought the suitcase along to Faerie, of course, although she never opened it once. They’d given it back to her when she’d returned to the mortal realm, her Mum, and the second grade.

Kinda like joint custody.

The next summer she’d spent with the Lord Auberon. And the next with Titania again. Then she’d gone home for a bit, and returned to Faerie for “fourth grade” with Titania, and the summer with Auberon, then “fifth grade” with him, and summer with her Mum. Then she went to real sixth grade, and spent the next summer with Titania again, and went to real seventh grade, and spent the next summer with Auberon. That made it all equal again. By this point, she was thirteen, and had hit puberty, and wasn’t as desirable a commodity anymore in the Seelie Court. She was still welcome, of course, and knew better than to play favorites. So she spent the next summer with Titania and the following with Auberon.

Pretty confusing, but it all came out equal. She’d actually spent much more time in the human realm than over there, in the scheme of things, although her time there had been more influential on her psyche. Especially her time with her Dad, who would show up occasionally with “fatherly advice,” and draft her into some mischief.

Her best friend in Faerie was Amy, also a changeling, although a different kind. Amy, a human child, had been born some time in the mid 1970’s, and taken as an infant. When Amy and Chloe had met, Amy was eight; now, ten years later, she was 12. Five years to Chloe was only two to Amy. Chloe wanted to find Amy’s parents some day, and tell them their daughter was alive and well, but she didn’t know who they were.

Chloe had friends in other realms, too, some angels, some gods, some goddesses, some... other. She hadn’t seen most of them since she was six, a long time ago, back when she found out what she was. Her best friend in the mortal realm had been Melissa, who certainly wasn’t human. Chloe still wasn’t quite sure what Melissa had been. Some kind of bird in human form, who’d been in an awful lot of trouble with the Norse god, Odin. Melissa had disappeared before Chloe’s seventh birthday.

Chloe kept shrines to the gods, goddesses and entities who were her personal friends, and to the Judeo-Christian God, and to Jesus. She wasn’t quite sure why she kept one to Jesus. She’d only sort of met him, and he wasn’t Jesus any more by then, anyway. She’d never met God, either, but she knew those who had.

Chloe had had a great time in Sunday School, especially after her first summer in Faerie.

Chloe lit the incense in all of her little shrines, and asked the deities and entities pardon; she’d be away for a week, and unable to tend the shrines. Then she waited a few minutes, blew out the incense, grabbed her suitcase and took the bus back to Rock’s house.

Was it too ironic, Chloe wondered, to keep shrines to the Lord Auberon and the Lady Titania? Chloe did anyway. But to her Dad, no, that was too close for comfort. He’d never seemed upset about it; perhaps he just didn’t know she’d left him out. That was entirely possible. He’d never been in her room, after all, and she’d never told him about the shrines. And she’d lined her doorframe with cold iron nails to keep Fey out. She always put on slippers, or shoes, or socks before stepping over her threshold, out of which the heads of the nails stuck, slightly. She didn’t want to wander out in the middle of the night, to go the bathroom, and accidentally step on one. The nails themselves would be enough to deter any full-blooded Fey.

But Chloe was lucky, and had never had any trouble stepping on one, of course. And her Dad would never find out he’d been omitted.

She hung out at Rock’s place until his parents went to sleep, then unpacked all his “unnecessary” items and called a cab to take them to JFK. She even paid the cabbie real money.

Never hurts to be nice, right?


	5. Chapter 5

Getting on the plane was as easy as Chloe had predicted. They checked no luggage, took their carry-ons with them, and found a British Airways flight to London. They displayed their “papers” at the gate, and the stewardess escorted them to two first-class seats, next to each other.

“When I fly, I fly Fey class,” Chloe said, reclining in the large leather seat.

Rock still wasn’t quite sure what he was doing there, but it was a hell of a lot of fun. He ordered a Bud, and Chloe got a Kaluha.

“Do fairies have wings?” Rock asked.

“Some do, over there, if they want. I don’t. My natural form there is more like a fox, though I don’t go around like that much.”

“So I’m dating a fox.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

As the plane took off, Chloe watched from her window seat as the lights of New York City spun below, as if the night sky had fallen to earth, or perhaps as if they soared above a distant galaxy. She leaned back and relaxed. She hadn’t been on a plane since she was five, when her Mum took her along on a business trip to London.

“So, why’d you dye your hair black,” Rock asked, “if you could just go, ‘poof’? Why’d you bother?”

“I did it with Chelsea. We dyed our hair together.”

“Oh.”

It wasn’t long before Chloe decided to lie down and sleep. Rock was surprised how quickly Chloe could fall asleep, especially under such circumstances. He got considerably less rest that night than Chloe did, and spent much of the night watching a movie of his choice on his personal television screen.

When the plane touched down at Heathrow, Chloe immediately headed to the airport bookstore, for tourism guides. She saw a woman paying with travelers’ checks, and got an idea. To pay for a hotel with cash might look a little weird. She took a good look at the check.

“OK, Rock,” she said, “here’s the deal. We’re staying at Thistle Hotels. This one. Bloombury.” She showed him a map, and pointed to the hotel. “It’s a five minute walk from the museum. I’m your rich British Aunt, at least while we’re there. Yes, I’m still going by Mrs. Russell, but this time I’m playing it British. I’ll do my best with the accent, and glamour the rest.”

“Uh huh.”

“Let’s buy these, and find a bank.”

She used one of her glamoured notes to buy the guide book and map. Then, at the bank, she converted Rock’s two hundred dollars into real pounds.

“I’ll pay you back, plus interest,” she said, and he nodded, in a daze. “Now we’re going to rent a car.”

“You’re going to drive?” His eyes widened.

Rock just stared as she walked to the BritainCar terminal, skipped the lines, flashed a credit card for a driver’s license, signed some forms, and got the keys to a new, black car, complete with new car smell. He watched her whip out the map, and deftly navigate the London streets.

“It’s the same, just on the other side of the road,” she said, confidently.

Rock became convinced he was lucid dreaming. This was madness, utter impossible madness. I’m driving around London with Chloe, he thought. She said she’s Puck’s daughter. We have printer paper for passports. My parents don’t care. “How do you know there’s going to be a room available at the hotel, Chloe?” he asked.

“Because I’m going there.”

“Oh, right.”

Sure enough, Rock heard the clerk at the desk tell Chloe that a room was indeed available, with two beds. Chloe paid in “traveler’s checks,” proudly bragging that she banks at Chase Manhattan. Rock yawned.

The room, Rock soon saw, was elegant, decorated in red and orange. The corner formed a sitting area, behind which windows stretched from floor to ceiling. In front of the windows, facing the rest of the room, sat two comfortable-looking, orange, upholstered chairs, and a small table stood in front of them. Flowers sat on the table.

Lithographs of London hung on the walls, a few more comfortable chairs stood about, and a writing desk stood across from the bed, under a large mirror. A large lamp sat on it. There was a television, too, on a small chest of drawers to the left of the desk. A small imitation gas lamp hung from the wall.

“Make yourself at home,” Chloe said.

Rock collapsed on one of the beds and fell asleep almost instantly.

Chloe put the clothes away, then ordered room service for supper. She tipped the bellboy with real money.

Never hurts to be nice.

She ate, while pouring through the guidebook she’d bought. Then she went downstairs and picked up free brochures about the British Museum from the hotel lobby.

Adrian had better appreciate this, she thought.

Adrian, if she was lucky, would never find out.

What could she tell him? Could she convince him it had all been a dream? If she was lucky, and rescued him in another day or two, it might only feel like a day had passed, to him. Maybe less.

Or it might feel like two weeks. Time passed differently for humans in Faerie.

She thumbed through the brochures in the lobby, glancing over the exhibits, then pulled out the printout of the jewel, and looked at it again. She thought about the first time she had seen the Lord Auberon; she had been on her Quest to find her true parentage. She hadn’t even been seven yet. Lord Auberon hadn’t said a word to her, of course, because he had not yet known who she was.

Chloe had just been a little child in the corner, sitting quietly, mesmerized by a glamour that dazzled even her changeling eyes. His was the sort of glamour one doesn’t ever dare look behind, Chloe instantly knew, for to do so would mean grave disrespect. Besides, in the presence of such supernaturally regal magnificence, why would one even bother? His image was too exquisite to miss, even for a moment.

His skin had been blue as the day sky of the mortal realm, and his long, flowing hair had shined black as night, as space, twinkling with stars. His deep eyes had held wisdom and antiquity, while upon his brow sat timeless nobility. His dark velvet cloak, clasped at the throat with a sparkling, jewel-encrusted pin, had swept the floor with each measured step, each patient pace. Power flowed from each graceful motion of his body. Chloe had had no idea how tall he was, but he had certainly towered over her small frame on the floor, as well as over the other adults in the room. Six feet tall, maybe seven? Eight? She had had the impression that if you tried to measure him, the numbers would fall off the tape.

She might have been small, but she had known not to utter a word, that some beings were to be respected, feared, and obeyed.

She had been ushered out of the room moments later, to let the adults meet in private.

She’d spoken to the Lady Titania a few days later. After Chloe and her companions had presented the Faerie Queen with her gift, a large rosebush with purple flowers growing around a golden spike, the Queen had granted Chloe private conference, and a boon.

Chloe had asked who and what she was, and who her true parents were.

She’d been afraid to look the Lady in the eye. Chloe had cowered in the chair as she spoke to the Faerie Queen. Titania was truly Auberon’s counterpart. Her skin was also blue, her hair black and wavy like the sea. On her brow sat a circlet of gold, with a large ruby hanging from it onto her forehead. Her robes were black, gold and blue, her ears delicately pointed, her gaze clear and sharp and mysterious. She was glowingly beautiful, and her eyes radiated with unearthly splendor. Her gait was graceful, her manner kind. From her neck hung the most fiery opal Chloe had ever seen, the size of small cookie. Her voice, melodic and sweet, had been truly mesmerizing.

Titania had told Chloe the truth about her parentage, had described the beauties of Faerie, and had invited her to visit the Seelie Court, her realm. Chloe had asked if she could come later, instead of just then, and Titania had said yes. Chloe next asked if she could return to the mortal realm after her visit, and the Faerie Queen had permitted it. Chloe still wasn’t sure why Titania had been so nice to her. She could have asked Chloe to swear allegiance on the spot. She could have taken her to Faerie against her will. But she hadn’t.

Chloe was just lucky.

Bastet and her Dad had drafted a polite letter to Titania thanking her, on Chloe’s behalf, for the generous invitation, but temporarily declining, as Chloe had other obligations at the moment to fulfill (such as the first grade). They humbly asked her permission for Chloe to visit in the summer, instead.

Titania had consented.

So it was that Chloe became the first half-Fey (ever, as far as she knew) to grow up in both worlds.

Legend held that back in the ancient days, when the Fey still shared the earth with mortals, half-Fey children were fairly common, at least by modern standards. Morgan le Fey was sometimes said to be one, hence her name. Merlin the Magician was said to be the son of a nun and a “demon,” which Chloe knew was what the Christians had called the Fey, once they took power and decided that the Fey were evil. Sure, her Dad wasn’t going to church. Hahaha. That would be a hell of a sight. Chloe going to church was bad enough.

Perhaps her Dad had been Merlin’s Dad too. It wasn’t as if she was stupid enough to ask him if he’d been the one to knock up that nun back in the 11th century or whatever. He might be proud of it, but then again, he might not.

Chloe didn’t even know whether Morgan and Merlin had really lived. She supposed they probably had. She’d never met them. She did, however, know that the Fey seldom had children of full blood, since conception was difficult, and that Fey were unable to nurse. In the ancient days they would sometimes “borrow” nursing human mothers to feed their children.

Chloe looked at the picture of the jewel again. Stealing a jewel. _No,_ she told herself, _it’s more like “borrowing” the jewel, like “borrowing” the mothers._

_No, it’s not. They eventually gave the mothers back. This is robbing a museum._

_I’m returning the jewel to its rightful owner._

_No, I’m giving it to Lord Auberon who’ll return it to its rightful owner._

_This is no stop sign, or pen, or some stupid crap, this is breaking into a museum._

_This is getting Adrian back, dammit. Maybe there’s another way?_

_Stupid second thoughts,_ she scolded herself. _What are human laws, anyway? A load of stupid shit. If a bunch of legislators decide to make it illegal for the temperature in the summer to exceed ninety degrees, and (guess what) it does because seasons don’t care, and then the police decide to arrest the summer, they’re jokes, fools, farces._

_I’m a person,_ she told herself, _not a season._

_You are Fey. Fey are like seasons. Fey are forces of nature. We follow our own rules and games. Human law applies to you as much as it does to the summer. You’re magical to boot. You’ve got your finger on the button of the universe. Nothing bad happens to you because you know it won’t. Have fun, Chloe, that’s what life is all about it. Enjoy it. Let yourself enjoy it. If you want to, Chloe Russell Goodfellow, you can do whatever you want to this world._

Chloe looked around the lobby.

_See that woman over there?_ she thought. _You could empty her purse on the floor. See that man? You could knock off his toupee. You could dance on the table over there with the bouquet of flowers, right here in the lobby in front of everyone. You wouldn’t get in trouble. And it would be fun. That’s what your Dad’s been trying to teach you._

_People are not games! Humans are not sport! People are people, and deserve to be treated with respect! I’m not like him, I know right from wrong._

_Right and wrong are human bullshit. You don’t blame a dog for promiscuity, a lion for killing a zebra or an ape for not using a toilet. If there’s a storm at sea, it’s neither right nor wrong, good nor bad. It just is. If your boat sinks, it’s bad, and if instead the storm sinks the other boats, and because of it you get all the business, like in that movie Forrest Gump, then it’s the damn best thing that ever happened to you._

_The storm doesn’t care. It’s not going to decide not to blow boats around just because some mortal might drown, or because some stupid human legislature made storms illegal. That’s you right now, a storm cloud with second thoughts._

_I’m not a cloud, I’m a human being!_

_You’re the most Fey Changeling there is on earth. You’re the most Fey half-Fey outside of Faerie itself._

Chloe sighed. _I don’t care anymore,_ she thought, _I just want to get my brother back. That’s the right thing to do._

_You’re such a stupid, party-pooping mortal. You know it’s going to be fun to sneak past those cameras and walk out undetected. You know you’re gonna feel proud. You know it’s gonna be gut-splitting hilarious when the glamour wears off and there’s a rock in that case instead of the jewel, and everybody goes dick-chasing crazy wondering how a gem turned into a rock before their eyes._

_Shut up_ , she told her Fey conscience.

_But I’m right._

Chloe sighed again, and pocketed the picture.

Since the leaving of the Fey, in the 16th century, half-Fey had become more rare on earth. The only ones she’d heard of had been fathered by (guess who) her Dad. Most of those children, however, had never found out what they were, and, growing up in the mortal world devoid of belief in magic, they had lost their capability. Their blood became diluted beyond recognition or significance.

Chloe had never been told she couldn’t use magic, that it wasn’t real, so she’d begun to use her powers at an early age, although unconsciously and unknowingly. When the Lady Titania had told her the truth, Chloe had claimed her Fey lineage and lifestyle, even if naively.

Chloe wasn’t the only half-Fey in Faerie, of course. There were the children of Fey and abducted mortals, who would feel as out of place in the mortal dimension as Rock would feel in theirs. Just as her Dad’s other children had become as humans, these had become as Fey. They did not understand human nature at all, and lived their lives entirely in Faerie. Chloe alone, having been abducted by no one, given to no one, and having sworn allegiance to no one, lived in both worlds.

Which was really trying sometimes.

She went back to the room and fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Rock awoke first, and woke her.

“Chloe, where am I?”

She mumbled something and rolled over in her bed.

“I had the weirdest dream. Jesus, Chloe, are we in a hotel together? Did we get smashed last night?”

“No.”

“I had this dream you told me you weren’t human.”

“Uhuh.”

“And we flew to London to-- get this!-- rob a museum. Something about your brother being abducted by aliens. Man, I must have smoked some strong shit. I don’t even remember the party!”

Chloe grinned to herself. Smirked, actually.

“And you said your Dad was a Shakespeare character. Puck.”

“Puck’s a lot older than Shakespeare, dear,” she replied.

“What would you know about that?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Rock walked over to the window and pulled back the shades. He swore.

“Chloe, that’s not New York.”

“Congratulations, Einstein.”

He turned around to look at her. “Wait a sec,” he said, jerking a thumb at the window, “that can’t be London.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re in New York. That was a friggin’ dream.”

“Get dressed,” Chloe said. “We have a big day ahead of us today.”

“Wait a second!”

Chloe stomped off to the bathroom.

“You don’t actually intend to rob the British Museum, do you?” he practically shrieked.

Maybe Dad’s right about humans, she mused, if only in that they just don’t understand anything at all.

“I only intend to return certain things to their rightful owners,” Chloe said, “and get my brother back.”

_And have a lot of fun doing it._

_Shut up._

“Wait a second, your Dad really is Puck?”

“That’s The Puck, and if you ever meet him, you’d better have a lot more respect, or you’re in big ass trouble.”

She heard Rock start cursing outside the bathroom door. Maybe she never should have brought him along. Was this worth it? She could have brought Chelsea, maybe. Or tracked down her old babysitter and dragged her along again, for the hell of it. At least Marie understood about the Fey. She’d even met Titania herself.

“Chloe,” Rock shouted, “I’m not helping you rob a museum!”

“Like I said yesterday, I’m not asking you to. What in creation do you think you could possibly do to help me? You can just hang out here.”

“Then I’m an accomplice.”

Before she could help it, she’d said it already. “Rock, where’s your sense of fun?”

“Fun!”

“Nothing’s going wrong. Chill out. Today we’re just going to tour the museum, like normal tourists, and get a feel for the place. Then we’ll leave, you’ll come back here, and I’ll get it done. Afterwards, we’ll celebrate, and we’ll wine and dine at the fanciest place I can find.”

“I wanna go home!”

She looked in the mirror and shook her head. This was pathetic. “With no money and no passport?” she snapped. “And even if you manage it, your Dad’s gonna be dead in a year. Stick around with me to the end, and he’ll live. Your call.”

“You’re a bastard.”

She smirked into the mirror. “Yup, in all ways, thanks to my Dad.” She left the bathroom, grabbed her clothes, and slammed the door again. She pulled on her black leather gloves, the kind with real fingers. “Rock, my brother was kidnapped. I intend to get him back.”

“But Chloe!”

“Sorry I told you the truth. Sorry I involved a human in the affairs of the Fey. Maybe that’s why they all left this dimension centuries ago, because people like you just don’t understand shit. You just want more and more, and assume you have dominion over the whole bloody earth. And when shit happens and people have to deal with it, you want out. Oh, no, let’s not rescue a boy who’s been kidnapped by beings from another dimension. Let’s leave him there because I’d rather not get involved. Not my politics, my problem, my brother. What if it was, Rock? Would you come crying to me for help?

“I am rescuing him because it’s the right thing to do. Not because that’s what the Fey would do, or would want me to do. I’m rescuing him, or at least trying to, because it’s the right thing to do. For Adrian. For his human parents, who hopefully won’t ever know what happened. He doesn’t belong there, period.” She came out of the bathroom. Rock was sitting on the bed. “You want to wuss out?” she asked him, bluffing. “I’ll make you a passport.”

“Chloe, I’m sorry.”

She looked at him skeptically.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m an ass. You have to get your brother back. It’s only right.”

She nodded. “Apology accepted.”

He smiled, slightly, and went into the bathroom.

_It’s only right_ , she thought. _Adrian belongs here. If he doesn’t come back, how can I live with that? It will devastate Mum, and Steve. I’m the only one who can rescue him. My family’s worth more than some stupid jewel. Remember to love your family, they’re all you’ve got. It’s only right._

_What the hell did I just think that for?_

_Because it’s true._

_He probably likes it more there. They always do, kids._

_I don’t care. It’s not right._

_You’re a storm cloud with a conscience. How pathetic._

_I’m a noble storm cloud. I only rain to right wrongs._

_Whose wrongs? You’re wronging the people at the museum. Is Adrian’s wrong worth more than theirs, because he’s your brother? You make a pathetic element. Auberon and Titania are true elements. So’s your Dad. They just happen. You rationalize everything to death._

She remembered what Bastet had told her after her first summer in Faerie. She’d sat on her bed with the gray cat, in New York, very confused about starting second grade and returning to life in the mortal realm.

“But which am I, human or Fey?”

“You are both,” Bastet had replied, calmly.

“But which am I more?”

The cat had shrugged.

“But which should I be?”

“That choice is up to you. No one can make it for you. You are the daughter of Puck, that is true. But you are also the daughter of Janine Russell.”

“But I’m mortal.”

“Yes, you will die someday.”

Chloe had petted the cat, and Bastet had snuggled up to her and purred softly. “I don’t know how to choose,” Chloe had said. “It’s all so pretty over there, but I don’t wanna leave my Mommy here. She’ll be so sad.”

“Perhaps you don’t have to choose. The Lady Titania is letting you come and go as you please.”

“But you’re moving there.”

“Eventually, yes. Not for a few years, it seems.”

Chloe had thought for a while, then gone to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Golden curls, pink sweater. Melissa had disappeared. Marie would graduate college. Then there’d be no one here who understood, but her cat. And even Misty, er, Bastet, was leaving.

But her Dad was so naughty. She wasn’t naughty. She was a nice little girl.

Mommy doesn’t care what I do. Neither does Steve. They’re always at work. But Daddy doesn’t care either. Titania thinks of me like one of those pretty glass things Mommy keeps in her special cabinet. Amy’s nice, I suppose. So’s Chelsea. One’s there, one’s here.

Would Mommy really miss me?

Chloe had asked that night, when her Mum came home. “Mommy,” she asked, as innocently as she could, “would you miss me if I died?”

Her mother had dropped her coffee mug in shock. She ran over to Chloe and hugged her, kissed her, said of course she’d miss her, and acted really scared all of a sudden. In the shower of affection, Chloe had decided to stay. Her Mommy really loved her, even if she didn’t know how to be a Mommy. The Fey didn’t understand love.

I’ll be both, Chloe decided. That’s what I choose. I’ll be both.

So here she was, in London, about to rob a museum.

Because it was the right thing to do.

But it was gonna be a hell of a lot of fun, too.

Rock and Chloe had breakfast in the hotel, then walked the five minutes to the museum. Getting in was easy; admission was free. They toured like everybody else, saw many interesting exhibits, then went off looking for the jewel.

It wasn’t that hard to find. It was in a room with other ancient jewels, both medieval and older. The brooch was indeed very beautiful; the ruby in the center was surrounded by diamonds, and all the gems had been set in gold.

“Dad was right,” Chloe whispered. The ruby still emanated a soft glow of Fey power, even after all these years. “This doesn’t belong here. It’s a Fey jewel.”

“You can tell?”

“Yeah.”

Chloe walked with Rock to the gift shop. She looked around for things of about the same size, and eventually settled on a London snow globe. She paid in real bills.

“Now we leave.” They did, and sat down outside. “You have a key to the room,” Chloe told her boyfriend. “Go back there and wait for me. I’m going back as someone else. I’ll stay until they close, then after it’s done I’ll meet you back at the room.”

Rock sighed. “You’re sure about this.”

“Positive.”

“OK.”

Rock left. Chloe walked back inside, went into the ladies’ room, glamoured herself and walked out as a middle-aged woman with brown hair.

Mirrors were useful for getting the details right.

Then she ate lunch at a museum restaurant, paying in glamoured bills and pocketing the change. She wandered around until closing time, then found a place to hide. She sat on the couch in the ladies’ room and glamoured herself invisible, or more like, “unnoticed.” The cleaning staff came and went, then she went, too.

Still glamoured, she returned to the room with the jewel, pulled out her lockpicks, and opened the case with ease. The glass swung open. She took the brooch and put the snow globe in its place. She glamoured the snow globe to look like the jewel, and the jewel to look like the snow globe. Then she relocked the case.

Simple enough.

“Good job.”

She spun. She could feel a Fey presence. Her father was standing there, looking like a blonde man in glasses and a Victorian outfit. He spoke with a British accent.

“How’d you get here?”

“Caught a flight on British Leylines.”

“Oh God,” she moaned, at the pun.

“But good job, little Chloe. Excellent, indeed.” He patted her patronizingly on the head. “Truly worthy of a Fey.”

“What do you want?”

“Want? Can’t a chap just have a little chat with his daughter without wanting anything?”

“Not you.”

He laughed and danced around the glass case, grinning mischievously. “I repaid my debt to thee. I owe thee nothing. Robin Goodfellow’s intentions are none but his own.”

“Then go away.”

“Didn’t I teach thee any manners?”

“Haha.”

He suddenly lunged and made a swipe at the jewel. She jumped back, faster, and drew her knife. “Back off.”

His eyes widened and he recoiled, no longer playful at all. “Eep!” he shrieked, backing off and cowering a little. “You have a cold iron knife!” He seemed genuinely scared, and dropped his condescending “thou” in his fright. “No... no need to get violent, now, Chloe dear.”

“Agreed. I’m taking this jewel to the Lord Auberon, not you.”

“I never thought of any such thing!”

It was Chloe’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, right,” she snapped. “You want to make up for dropping it in the first place.”

A janitor walked into the room, missed them both completely, and went about mopping the floor.

“Nonsense!” shouted Puck. “I just wanted to look at it! Chloe,” he practically begged, “put that knife away!” His haughty tone reappeared, a little. “Is that any way to treat your dear Dad?”

Playing on her human conscience... Not gonna work. “When you’re father’s a hobgoblin, it sure is.” She advanced a step, and he recoiled another pace.

“Eep!”

“I owe you nothing, and you owe me nothing,” she said, confidently, aggressively. “Why don’t you just beat it.”

“Chloe, let’s make a deal.”

“I’m Fey enough to take care of myself. I’ll give you a deal. Get out of here and no one in Faerie hears about this. It would be rather embarrassing, would it not, if the Lord Auberon learned about this little tiff right now. And maybe he doesn’t know you’re the one who dropped it. You don’t want him to learn of that, do you?”

He vanished. The janitor kept mopping. Chloe looked around, assured herself her father was gone, found the security camera high up on the ceiling, and made a funny face. She stuck out her tongue, then put her thumbs in her ears, wiggled her fingers and shouted, “Nah nah!” loudly.

Then she giggled, pocketed the jewel, picked up the knife, and marched proudly out of the museum.


	7. Chapter 7

She sat down outside, closed her eyes and concentrated really hard.

“That’ll take care of the cameras,” she muttered. “Now let’s get back to Rock.”

She walked down the dark London streets. _That was fun_ , she thought. _But I’m nothing like Dad. I have respect for humanity. I understand love, and family, and loyalty._

_I have respect for authority. Not all authority, of course, but the authority that matters. Not just Fey authority, and powerful gods and goddesses, but human authority._

_Like, for example, if I had dinner at the White House, I’d be really polite. If I went to the UN, I’d mind my manners. Not my Dad. He’d cross all the wires so the French guy heard Swahili and the Swahili guy heard French, knock out a translator and start saying funny crap into someone’s headset. He’d turn all the chairs upside down, shut out the lights and steal someone’s hat. I’d never do that. I’d never even think about it. OK I’d think about it but I’d never actually do it. There’s an important distinction there._

_And yeah, it would be funny, but it would be wrong. Because humans are not toys. Well, OK, sometimes they are, but that’s just little stuff, you know, nothing serious._

_Right?_

Rock was waiting for her in the room, as she hoped and expected.

“Got it,” she said, showing the jewel proudly to him. She told him what happened.

“You pulled a knife on your father?!” he asked in shock.

“He tried to take the brooch.”

“Chloe!”

She shrugged and rolled her eyes. “A chess piece doesn’t care if you block a move.”

“But he’s not a chess piece.”

She shook her head. “Faeries are devious little critters, and my father’s one of the worst. I don’t let anyone, or anything, push me around. Fey don’t have family like humans do. They understand four things best: politics, favors, mischief and saving their own asses. I couldn’t be bothered with that right now. I’ve got a brother to rescue.”

“Maybe he just wanted to see it.”

She looked at him like he was really stupid, scrunching up her face in a half-smile half-gawk. “Rock, my father is Mischief himself.”

“I’m just saying.”

“He almost never tells the truth.”

“OK, OK, you know him better than I do.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Let’s get dinner.”

***** 

Chloe wore the brooch to supper, on her glamoured evening gown. As an elegant middle-aged woman taking her nephew for a tour of London, she found a fancy restaurant, 1 Lombard Street, and, waving the wad of money she had, she got a table without a reservation. By coincidence, they just happened to have a table for two, free, at that very moment.

Chloe ordered feuillete of smoked Finnan haddock with quail’s eggs, in English mustard sauce, for starters, and then she and Rock shared a roast rack of lamb with truffled potatoes, for two. Chloe bought a bottle of champagne, Dom Perignon, 1990 Magnum, for 225 pounds. For dessert, they each had a soufflé du jour and fine cheese.

“A toast, dear,” said Chloe, raising her glass with flamboyance. “To Chloe Russell Goodfellow le Fey, daughter of mischief, troublemaker extraordinaire, and the life of the party.” They clinked glasses. “Doesn’t this beat that math test?” she asked. Rock nodded, still having trouble believing his eyes, and learning not to believe them, in turn. “Ride along with me, honey, the world’s my oyster.” She drank.

“So, now what?” asked Rock.

“Now we fly home. I suppose I could go to Faerie from here, but I don’t know any doorways.”

“Doorways?”

“Portals. I can’t make my own. Dad makes ‘em all the time and hides them about, and I know some of the ones in New York.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

She giggled so hard she almost spat. “Dear, don’t make me laugh. I don’t want to see him again until this whole business is done with.”

She paid for the meal, they got back in the car, and drove back to the hotel.

***** 

While Rock slept, Chloe went for a walk around London. She needed to think, and brought a map in case she got lost. But she knew she wouldn’t.

It was all fun and games, stealing the jewel, fine dining, wearing the brooch and paying in glamoured bills. That’s all, just fun and games. She hoped the ruby would be enough to exchange for her brother. What if it wasn’t?

The earth is my world, too, as much as Faerie is, she thought, looking around at the foreign storefronts. Why can’t I live in it like humans do? Why do I have to play by Fey rules? Most kids my age are worried about their history papers and SATs and getting into college. They think about being popular, about sports teams, television shows and video games. Chelsea wants to be an artist. Skip wants to study psychology. Spielberg wants to join the Navy. Where am I going?

Maybe I’ll become an actor, a comedian, and a computer programmer. I’ll make fools of them all, poke fun at the illusions of both worlds.

Jesus, you’re taking after your Dad.

No I’m not.

He was Court Jester. That’s what jesters do. They hold up mirrors.

Oh, never mind, then. How about a politician?

There you go again! Why can’t you think like a human, Chloe?

I am thinking like a human! Right?

She sighed to herself.

Chloe had no fear of death. She used to, when she was small, but that was a long time ago. People, she reasoned, are afraid of death because it’s unknown. She knew what happens. She knew where people go. She’d met Death; Death was a friend of hers, sort of. Death was really nice. Chloe was not afraid of her at all.

But life, that was the scary part.

Chloe had had friends die, but never close friends. At a friend’s funeral, long ago, she had heard the words she still remembered to this day, Remember to love your family, to be good to them, because in the end, they’re all you’ve got. The woman who’d spoken these words had died suddenly the next day. When Chloe had heard her speak these words, she’d thought about herself. Who is my family? she had wondered. How do I know who to be good to, if I don’t know who my family is?

Whenever she’d asked her Mum about her Dad, her Mum had replied, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Chloe would wait, and after her next birthday, she’d ask again.

“I’m older now. Who’s my Dad?”

But her Mum’s reply had always been the same, that she was still not old enough.

She didn’t realize that in truth, her Mum hadn’t known, and was just buying time. She’d eventually learned the real story from her Dad, not from her Mum at all.

Chloe had calculated the ages on her own.

Janine Russell had been 22, just out of college. She’d gone to a party with some friends, at some club, and gotten drunk, and had a one night stand with a stranger in the back of her car. That was it. She’d never even gotten his name.

When Chloe had turned thirteen, her Mum had taken her aside and made up a story about her Dad. She told her that he’d been a nice man, and his name had been Richard, and they’d been dating, but when he found out she was pregnant he’d skipped town. She said he’d loved her very much, but he wasn’t very mature.

Chloe didn’t tell her Mum she knew it was a lie, that she knew the truth. She let her Mum talk and talk, and knew this was the story she had told Steve. It was a good story, it just wasn’t true. Perhaps, all these years later, her Mum almost believed it herself. Chloe just listened, and thanked her Mum politely. She knew it would be very mean to tell her Mum she knew the real story. And anyway, her Mum would never believe the real story.

Chloe had been so happy to learn the truth from Titania, to learn who her real Dad was. She’d said so. She finally knew who to be good to! She’d said so to him, too.

So naive.

She sat down on a curb and watched the cars go by.

She was a teenager and she was mortal. What else mattered? Did it matter she was half-Fey? Did it matter she was raised by a cat goddess? Did it matter she lived in Faerie for part of the year? That she could fake passports? That she had magic powers? Chloe had gotten her wish, and had grown up to be both Fey and human. Now where was she going?

Fey had it easy, in some ways. Some, like her Dad, were pretty near immortal. They had a clear nature, one that they always were and always would be, until their end, whenever that was. It was a rare event indeed for a faerie to have an identity crisis. They were capricious, sure, but who had ever heard of a Redcap being nice or a Grogoch hurting anyone? Chloe was always faced by so many bloody choices.

That’s what you get for being both.

Chloe’s Dad was indeed close to immortal. He was at least a thousand years old, if you believed the legends, and Chloe did. He changed shape like clothes, and didn’t age a day. He used to work for Auberon, as a messenger and jester, but something had gone wrong, and he’d quit or been fired or something. That was about four hundred years ago. When the Fey left earth, he’d stayed. Now he was the only member of the Seelie Court to reside outside of Faerie. There might still be a few leprechauns and stuff running around Ireland, Chloe wasn’t sure, but there were no more members of Court on earth.

As far as she knew, her Dad, like all powerful Fey, could only be hurt by iron. The story about crosses hurting Fey was Christian superstitious crap. Fey didn’t set foot in churches not because they were afraid to, but because they had no reason to. They predated the Christian mythos; their souls were different. Chloe had been told she had a soul that was both Fey and human, but this made no sense to her. When she was a little girl, everyone kept telling her she was a special case to this, and a special case to that, and she was always asking what applied to her.

When Bastet had first heard of her parentage, on Chloe’s Quest, she’d launched into this long series of Faerie do’s and don’ts. Don’t step off the path, no matter what. Don’t accept any gifts, unless you’re sure you have something of equal value to exchange, or unless the giver uses the words, “freely and without expectation.” Beware of pickpockets. Beware of those who would drop their own items into your pocket to claim you stole it, and thus would “own” your service for a few decades as repayment. Always be polite. Don’t eat anything. Bring your own food with you.

“But what if I stay there for a really long time, like, a year?” Chloe had asked.

“Chloe, you do not have to bring a bag lunch,” her father had interrupted, annoyed and amused. “We’ll work it out.”

She’d giggled. Indeed, they had. As someone of Fey blood, Chloe could eat faerie food with impunity, and return to the mortal world without difficulty. She did not have to walk a path; indeed, she could come and go directly, through known portals, or the ones her Dad had secretly set up. Time passed the same for her in both worlds, not distorted as it was for humans.

Bastet had told her Faerie was a very dangerous place. So Chloe had asked her Dad,

“Daddy, when I go to Faerie, will you protect me so nothing bad happens to me?”

He’d hesitated. “I’ll teach you to protect yourself, to look after yourself.” He paused, then reluctantly added, “But until you’re old enough to take care of yourself, I’ll take care of you.”

She’d been happy and run off. Truth was, he’d left all the protecting to Bastet. But he and Bastet had certainly taught her to look after herself. And after Faerie, well, New York was a cinch.

Puck was no responsible father. He was the cosmic opposite. There were deadbeat dads, and then there were Fey. Non-human parents don't always understand human family structures, Chloe mused. Father turtles don’t know which offspring are theirs. Mother guppies eat their young.

Fey understand favors, and saving their own asses.

At the end of Chloe's Quest, when Titania had told Chloe about her Dad, she’d run to find him.

“You’re my Daddy!” she’d exclaimed, loudly, excitedly. He wasn’t too happy to hear it, truth be told. He’d lied and said he hadn’t known. He’d acted like a kid caught stealing, trapped in the store when the alarm went off. Scared witless, backing away from her like there might be some way out, somewhere...

“Are you afraid of me?” Chloe had asked, confused.

“Of you? No...” he’d managed, laughing, looking around desperately for any other option.

He’d been scared of Titania and Auberon, Chloe later learned. Within moments, he’d pulled Chloe aside and asked her if Titania had been mad at him. She said no. He asked again.

"No."

She told him what Titania had told her, and how happy she was to know who her parents were, because now she could be good to them. She told him how glad she was to know the source of her powers.

“You have... powers?” he had asked, very worried.

“Uhuh.” Chloe had explained. This did not make him any happier. He had made her promise him on the spot that if she played with Titania, she’d play an equal amount of time with Auberon, and if she played with Auberon, she’d play an equal amount of time with Titania. Chloe had promised, then asked why.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” he’d said.

She’d learned why, eventually. Fey love human children, and most of all, half-Fey children. Chloe was only one person, and Auberon and Titania were two people. And she could only belong to one of them, at most. Fey do not share. The best solution for Chloe was to belong to neither of them. That’s what she chose.

And her Dad got a boatload of political crap.

It had only been Chloe’s luck which had saved her from abduction when she had met with Titania alone. The Faerie Queen had just not felt like abducting her.

Chloe was just lucky. Someone has to be.

She got up from the curb and walked back to the hotel. Along the way she saw a beggar. She dropped a glamoured note into his jar.

“Here,” she said, as his eyes lit up, “but be careful. Use it before noon tomorrow.” He thanked her profusely. She smiled and walked away.

Never hurts to be nice.

***** 

Chloe and Rock listened to the radio in the car, as they drove back to the airport the following morning.

“Why’d you get me out of school for a week?” asked Rock. “It’s only been two days.”

“Because you’re coming with me to Faerie.”

“Wha... what?” The concept seemed to strike him for the first time. “Me?”

“Of course. You don’t think I’m going to ask the Lord Auberon to cure your father for you, do you? I’ve got my own favor to ask, and that’s my brother.”

“Wait, another Shakespeare character?”

“Oh God,” Chloe moaned. “The Lord Auberon’s a lot older than Shakespeare.”

“Oh.”

“I got you out for a week because in Faerie, time passes differently for humans. You might actually be gone for a week. I wanna play it safe.”

“OK.”

They drove on. Chloe changed the radio station.

“...robbery at the British Museum. The Brooch of Norford was stolen this morning. Museum staff reported seeing it before the museum opened today, but this afternoon, a snowglobe from the museum giftshop was found in the case in its stead.”

Chloe laughed.

“...peculiar because there were no fingerprints on the glass, the lock shows no signs of tampering, and the theft appears to have been performed during the hours of operation of the museum. A group of Russian tourists have reported ‘miraculously’ seeing the brooch transform into the snowglobe before their eyes. They are currently under suspicion. The museum has no security camera confirmation of this feat, or of the theft itself, since coincidentally the camera that points in that particular direction has been out of order for a week. Museum officials suspect an insider theft.”

Chloe grinned widely.

“How’d you manage that one?” asked Rock. “I can see breaking the camera, maybe, but making it out of order for the week before?”

Chloe turned a corner. “I’m good like that.”

“Jesus, you really are.”

“Jesus has nothing to do with it.”

He looked at her askance, but she didn’t see. She changed the station to rock music.

***** 

Getting on a plane home was as easy as getting on a plane to London in the first place, if not easier. Security was more lax. They took first class seats again.

“Now for the fun part,” said Chloe.

“Excuse me?”

“Faerie.” Chloe proceeded to deliver to Rock a lecture about Faerie, similar to the one Bastet had given her ten years earlier.

“...and do not leave the path for anything, anything at all, even if you see me standing off to the side beckoning you to come over. Do not ever stray from the path, or you’ll be trapped there forever.”

“Uhuh.”

“And do not accept any gifts. If here, I were to make you something and say, ‘Hey Rock I made you a hat’ or whatever, and you were to say ‘No thanks’, it would be a big insult. But over there that’s what you’ve gotta say, because otherwise they’ll own your servitude for like fifty years. No matter what they offer you, you’ve gotta say no thank you. Especially food. Eat anything at all, and there’s no chance you’re ever coming home.”

“OK, OK.”

“It’s all a game, Rock. It’s a big, elaborate game, and it has rules. And at the top of it are Auberon and Titania. And they can’t hurt you if you know the rules of the game. Or if you refuse to play. But if you take anything, and play along, they’ve got you. They win.”

“All right.”

“They can’t stray from the rules of the game, Rock. That’s what humans have that they don’t. Creativity. They can only be creative within their bounds.”

Rock nodded. She told him everything important she could think of, then at last fell silent.

“So they’re immortal,” Rock asked at last.

“More or less. Fey can be killed by iron. That’s why I’m not allowed to bring my knife over there.”

“But only iron?”

“Yeah.”

“Why iron?”

“Beats me.”

Chloe had seen this immortality for herself, and it had scared the hell out of her. She’d been on her Quest, not yet seven years old. She’d met her Dad, although she didn’t yet know he was her Dad.

She’d had nightmares for weeks afterwards.

Because of some grown-up political thing she hadn’t understood, her Dad had decided not to cooperate with someone, and pulled out a pistol and shot himself in the chest. In public, and in broad daylight.

Right in front of his daughter.

Fey don’t understand human emotions. Fey understand their own motives, and don’t care about the consequences to mortals nearby. It’s all an elaborate game. That’s all. A mockery of life, a mockery of death. They keep score.

Chloe had screamed, then started crying. There was blood everywhere. His body had fallen to the ground, apparently dead.

Luckily, her friends and Bastet had been there to comfort her, to hold her and tell her she was a brave little girl, that he’d probably come back in another form, later. She hadn’t believed them. Her friends had told her that he never would have shot himself if he’d actually thought it was going to hurt him for real. He’d never kill himself over something silly like a political trifle, or over anything, for that matter. He was just being ornery. Fey always worked at cross-purposes.

Good thing she hadn’t known then that he was her Dad. That would have made things much worse.

He did come back. She wasn’t sure if he’d revived, or if he’d instead taken another physical form. But she no longer doubted his immortality.

New York was tough, but Fey were tougher.

Chloe and Rock watched a movie on the plane, and soon they landed at JFK again. Since they had checked no luggage, they got back to Chloe’s house within two hours.

Chloe dropped the iron knife by the foot of the tree in her backyard. “Remember,” she told Rock, “be polite.”

“OK.”

“And stay on the path, or you’re spending the rest of your life there, milking cows in Dimension F.”

“Right.”

Chloe closed her eyes and concentrated.

“Oh hello!” said a high pitched, unfamiliar voice. Chloe looked left, and a faerie, in appearance rather like a small human child with flowers in her hair, was standing in front of them, grinning playfully. “Who’s the mortal?”

“This is my companion, Jamie.”

“Jamie!” It laughed. “I like that name.”

Rock gave Chloe a puzzled look. “Who are you talking to?” he whispered.

“Hush up,” she told him as quietly as she could.

“The human is confused, is he not?” squeaked the faerie.

“Yes. He cannot see you.”

“I know!” It giggled.

“Jamie and I wish to hold private counsel with the Lord Auberon. We have a most fitting gift for him.”

“Ooh!” shrieked the little creature with delight. “Can I see?”

“No, it is for his eyes only.”

“Oh. I can take you there, but since you walk with a human, Changeling, you must take the path together.”

“I understand.”

“Follow me.” It beckoned, and jumped into the tree, right through it. Chloe beckoned Rock to follow her, and again, stepped through the bark.


	8. Chapter 8

This time the sight that greeted Chloe’s eyes was not the familiar land of Faerie. She stood in a deep dark forest, surrounded by thick, tall trees that stretched up so far, their tops were not visible. She felt the size of an ant. When she turned around, she saw nothing but the densest and darkest of silent woods. The little faerie was waiting for her, glowing softly.

“Hurry, hurry!”

“I cannot leave without my human companion.”

So the faerie waited.

I like my way better, Chloe thought. Much better. This place gives me the creeps. The trees are holding their breath, and the air is stifling.

Rock suddenly appeared, confused. “I walked through a tree.”

Chloe gestured. “Take my hand.”

They followed the faerie through the woods, walking a thin and winding path between the trees. Their guide sometimes walked, sometimes skipped, sometimes flew. The trees loomed ominously on either side, and lights flickered between them.

There were eyes, hundreds of pairs of eyes. They peered out from the underbrush and watched the companions carefully as they passed. Most of the eyes skipped over Chloe and fixed on Rock, filled with curiosity, hunger or mischief.

Chloe grasped his hand harder, tighter.

“Chloe, is that really a castle over there?”

“No.”

“Is that really a unicorn?”

“No.”

He suddenly stopped. “Wait a second, we can’t walk right across the river. There’s a bridge over that way.”

“No there isn’t. Walk.”

“But...”

“Walk.”

He did, at last.

“Can I pick up that gold over there?”

“No. Just follow me.”

“But is it real?”

“No.”

The path wound on and on, up hills, down hills, around in circles. They continued down the tortuous trail for hours. “I’m tired,” complained Rock.

“Tough,” said Chloe. “We’ll be there soon.”

Chloe hoped she was right. Luckily, it wasn’t long before they reached a high stone wall, overgrown with ivy. A wooden door was set in it.

“Here we are!” squeaked the little faerie. “I take my leave of you here, at the gates of Faerie.” It vanished.

Chloe pushed the door open and dragged Rock through it.

The gentle summer breeze of Faerie felt far superior to the stifling air of the path. The sky was golden, the wind gentle and fresh. She looked at Rock. His mouth hung open. “We made it,” she said.

He stared around him like an infant, unable to focus his eyes, struggling to take in the vast marvels of the scenery. He made a few sounds and failed words.

“Where... where... where are we?” he managed, at last.

“My other home.”

“Why do you ever come back?” He spun in place, again and again.

“Rock, it’s beautiful, but it’s not real. It’s as real as those bills I made.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious.”

“This place is trippy.”

She laughed. That was a first. No one had ever, to the best of her knowledge, described the land of Faerie as “trippy” before.

“Come.”

He looked at her. “You’re a... oh my god, you’re a fox.”

Oops. Chloe had paid so much attention to Rock, and not losing him, that she’d forgotten to take human aspect again. Instantly she was back in her familiar shape, no longer a small fox-like creature with red fur. She even glamoured clothing, like all faeries of Court.

Rock just stared.

The Seelie Court was an imitation of human life and social practices. The Fey, lacking creativity, needed humans to create the customs the Fey modeled. The Fey held Court, celebrated festivals, attended “funerals,” sang and danced, all in cold imitation or mockery of humans.

The Seelie loved beauty, in and of itself, for its own sake. Then were often good to humans; at least, they were not intrinsically bad.

But there was no more emotion behind their love of beauty than in a computer program instructed to value all things “beautiful,” as designated by some algorithm. Beauty itself was their game: to collect it, create the image of it and treasure it, not because beauty (or anything else) was “good,” but because those were the rules.

The Fey, forces of nature, needed humans for structure, for shapes to imitate, for social practices to follow, for language and customs. They mirrored humanity and mocked it simultaneously.

“Come, Rock.”

“It’s marvelous!”

“It’s an illusion.”

There were other faeries who weren’t so beautiful. Some faeries, instead, took delight in all things ugly and malicious, for those were their rules. They coldly mirrored and mocked all the worst in humanity, enjoying killing people and animals, reveling in torture, disease and the consumption of human flesh. Chloe chose not to tell Rock about those faeries, who lived, thankfully, elsewhere.

But Faerie was above all a chess game, a calculated, cold, strategic mockery of human life. The white king and queen were no more compassionate than their black counterparts, no more loving; they were just chess pieces, with a game to play. Some played “beautiful,” some played “ugly,” all played coldly.

The Fey loved chess. It was the perfect game: one side white, one side black, structure, strategy, politics. No one ever cries for a captured pawn.

Like Adrian.

Her father could no more be responsible than a rook could move diagonally. Auberon and Titania could no more suffer ugliness at Court than a bishop could move horizontally. The immortal, sentient pieces of the cosmic game board used humans, and each other, as toys, as chessmen.

In the land of eternal summer, twilight and warmth, Chloe felt the chill.

“Come, Rock, follow me.”

She led him through the twinkling fields, between the glittering grasses. This was no paradise. This was an imitation and mockery of human ideals. It was false.

But there was a certain purity in its falseness. It was uncomplicated by emotions. It was clear. It had no second thoughts, no guilt, no conscience. Faerie was freedom, despite the strictness of its rules. It was freedom from the burden of creativity, freedom from good and evil, right and wrong, and the plagues of the human heart. It was innocence, it was whim, it was untainted by morality. Faerie was, in short, freedom from her humanity.

And Chloe couldn’t live with her humanity year round. It got on her nerves, sometimes. But at other times, the faerie lack of genuine warmth bothered her, too. Sometimes she wished for a big, loving family to celebrate holidays with, and fight with, and sit around the fire with on winter nights.

Even though she’d play pranks on every one of them, for the hell of it, of course.

Chloe found it curious, and ironic, that the belief in science, which had pushed the Fey from earth’s borders, had also produced computers, the most Fey-like beings on earth nowadays. Science had replaced magic, and then imitated it in dauntless, daring jest. Humans, in arrogant audacity, had created special effects, movies and lifelike graphics as imitation glamour. Humanity thumbed its nose at the Fey every time it built robots, wrote AI’s, mixed cosmetics, cooked food without fire and washed clothes without water. Every artificial color and flavor was an insult to Faerie, every lightbulb a spiteful laugh in the face, every air conditioner a callous reminder of human domination. Technology had triumphed on earth, and synthetic nature abounded in its wake. New York City reeked of artificial magic. While the Fey were mocking humans, humans were mocking Fey right back.

The humans had driven the Fey from earth, but the two races were still intricately interconnected, interdependent. Humanity and Faerie were two sides of the very same coin. Glamour, Hollywood, what was the difference? Neither race could survive without the other to copy, to imitate, to mock.

For Chloe, both Fey and human at once, the tight weave of the tapestry of mockery became her salvation. Her nature mocked itself, yet needed itself, too.

She led Rock to the palace of Auberon and Titania.

“It’s so beautiful,” exclaimed Rock, eyeing the towering turrets glinting in the golden light, the living walls of twinkling, iridescent wood, the glittering lights of the leaves and flowers, the precious stones glowing along the path, the gossamer windows, and the fluttering thatched roofs, swaying in the breeze like silky hair.

“It is as cold a mockery of true beauty as technology is of magic,” Chloe said, without emotion.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Human eyes couldn’t see the truth here, anyway.

There had been a time when Chloe had not been able to see it, either. Back in the days when the Fey had lived among humans, and mortal mothers were abducted to bear Fey children, the babies’ eyes, at birth, had been anointed with a special cream, to grant the child the gift of Fey sight. Half-Fey were not born with the ability to see through glamour, nor to see the glow of Fey power.

Before Chloe’s first summer in Faerie, she’d known of glamour, but the only time she had seen behind it had been when a Fey had permitted it. Soon after her first arrival in Faerie, Titania had held a special “anointing celebration” at Court, and attendants had applied the magic lotion to her eyes. They’d danced, and sung, and eaten magnificent fruits and pies, and Chloe had beheld, for the first time, the truth of that land. She had been accepted as a Fey child, welcomed as such by the highest Seelie lords, and granted the graces she was due.

Staying human, in a sense, had been her own choice.

That summer, Chloe had learned not just to see behind glamour, but to use it, create it as well. Perfecting the art had taken a couple of summers. Chloe was unusually powerful for a half-Fey, she had been told, and so in a few years she had learned to work glamour almost as well as a full-blooded faerie. Nowadays she was just as good, although her glamours didn’t last quite as long, sometimes.

Chloe approached one of the guards at the gate, told him her errand and business. Of course he wasn’t really guarding the palace from any sort of attack; no one in Faerie would ever think of such a thing. He was standing there because all palaces had guards.

Moments later an official escort greeted them, and led them through the gates, and inside to the magnificent halls and the throne room of the Lord Auberon.

The Fey lord, majestic and powerful, his expression still and peaceful as ancient ice, sat reclined on a twinkling seat of precious metals and gems, a circlet of gold resting lightly on his night black hair. He waved the servant away with a casual gesture of his blue-skinned hand.

Rock cowered behind Chloe and held on to her tightly, his mouth hanging open and his body twitching in fright.

The servant bowed deeply and left.

Auberon stood to his full glamourous height, his deep purple, velvet robes, trimmed with gold, falling luxuriously about him and spilling onto the floor. He approached them slowly, with grace and unearthly patience, his footfalls silent, and Chloe bowed deeply. Rock, stunned, gaped upward at the Seelie king.

“Chloe Russell, Changeling daughter of my estranged servant Robin Goodfellow, welcome back to Faerie. You are always welcome in our realm.” Auberon spoke slowly, in a voice melodic and sweet, deep and resonant, yet quiet.

“Thank you for your generous graces, Lord of the Seelie.”

He nodded, and she stood.

“Who is your human companion?” he asked slowly, with timeless composure.

“This is James Peterson. Together we present you with a proper and fitting gift.” Chloe pulled the brooch out of a pocket, and dropped it into the Fey lord’s large, blue palm.

He held it up, examined it coolly, dispassionately. “This is an acceptable gift,” he said a moment later, his dark eyes glittering with regal presence. Chloe bowed again. “I grant you one favor each. Who shall be first?”

“I shall,” said Chloe.

Auberon motioned, and a servant came and stood by Rock. “Take him to another chamber to wait,” the Fey lord commanded, and the servant led Rock away, with only a minor struggle.

“My apologies for the human’s lack of graces.”

“Proceed with your request, Changeling.”

“I request only that my brother, by human blood, be returned to me, unharmed, that he may presently return to the mortal realm with me and my companion.”

Auberon nodded. “So be it. It shall be done.” He nodded to another servant, who fetched Adrian.

“Chloe, is that you?” asked the boy, his eyes lighting up.

“I release you from my service,” Auberon told the boy, who ran over to his sister.

“Is that really you?”

Chloe nodded.

“Will that be all, Changeling?” asked the Fey lord, glitteringly cold and beautiful.

“Yes, Lord of the Seelie.”

With a nod from their king, servants led Chloe and Adrian away, to the next chamber, and brought Rock before Auberon.

I hope he doesn’t screw this one up, thought Chloe. I’m not sure I feel like saving him, too, if I even can.

“What are you doing here?” asked Adrian.

“Taking you home.”

“How’d you get here?”

“I just did.”

“I don’t want to leave. This place is beautiful.”

“You’re coming home. Your parents miss you very much.”

Adrian looked at her carefully. “Why did he call you ‘Changeling’?”

“It doesn’t matter, Adrian. You’re safe with me.”

“This creature came last night, took me here... they played with me, taught me to dance.”

Chloe held him close. “This place is an illusion, Adrian. It’s all an illusion.” She hugged him, tightly. “I love you.”

They were still hugging when the servant returned with Rock.

It spoke. “The Lord Auberon bids me escort you to the path, and down it to the mortal realm,” it said. “We leave anon.”

Chloe took Adrian by one hand, and Rock by the other, and followed the servant out of the palace, and all the way back to New York.


	9. Chapter 9

When they stepped through the bark again, their feet crunched into fresh snow. It had been night when they entered; now it was day.

“As I thought,” said Chloe. “That was no few hours.” She dug around for her knife, and finally found it.

“How long were we gone?” asked Rock.

“I don’t know, a few days, maybe?”

“I’m starved.”

“Me too.”

“Let’s get inside.”

They walked up to Chloe’s front door. She closed her eyes, concentrated really hard, then knocked. To her surprise, her Mum answered. Janine Russell was dressed for work, in her power suit and stockings.

“Chloe! Adrian!” she cried. “What on earth happened to you? My babies!” She embraced them, in turn. “Where’d you go?”

“Remember that time, when I was six, and I went away for a week?” Chloe began, carefully.

“Yes...”

“It was like that. You got my note, right?”

“Yes, thankfully, otherwise I would have called the cops.”

“We’re all safe now, and that’s what matters.”

Chloe’s mother seemed about to say something, then changed her mind. She spotted Rock.

“Oh, hello Jamie,” she said, as the others walked inside. “Come in, come in, have some breakfast. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Russell.”

“So polite today!”

Chloe pulled some fruit from the refrigerator, then poured some juice and cereal for her brother and boyfriend. She looked at the calendar on the table. Thursday. Six days. Half a day there had counted for three, here.

She was exhausted.

“Steve and I were worried about you two,” said Chloe’s mother. “Where’d you get off to?”

“I’ve told you, Mum, I can look after myself.”

“But where’d you go? Was it like that time ten years ago?”

“Sort of. Mum, I can take care of myself.”

“I know, I know, but we were worried, anyway. I didn’t have reassuring dreams like the other time.”

“We’re back now, safe and sound. You need to get to work. You’ll be late.”

“Ooh, you’re right!” Chloe’s mother looked at the clock, then rushed off for work. Chloe, Rock and Adrian sat in the kitchen and ate breakfast.

“It was so beautiful there,” said Adrian, staring at his sister with dazed eyes. “Why did I have to leave so soon?”

“That was a dream, Adrian,” she replied, curtly.

“No it wasn’t.”

“Yes it was. You’re going to wake up tomorrow safe in your bed.”

“But Chloe...”

“Eat up. You have a lot of waking up to do.”

Adrian ate in silence, then Chloe tucked him into bed. As she expected, he was asleep in moments. She returned to Rock, in the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you tell him the truth?” he asked.

“It’s not necessary. Besides, the Fey frown on such things. Etiquette and all.”

“But you told me.”

“You were my companion on the journey there. You presented the gift beside me. That’s different.”

“It is?”

“Yes.” She took a sip of orange juice. “So tell me, what happened when you met with Auberon alone?”

“I’ve never been so scared in my life,” said Rock. Chloe snickered. “I’m never going to be afraid of anyone on earth, as long as I live. I’ll never be afraid of any bully, any coach, any teacher, any professor, any celebrity, even President Bush himself. He’s not nine feet tall and blue!”

Chloe laughed. “Yup, he’s not. Neither is Auberon, actually, but he might as well be.”

“He’s not? Sure looked it.”

“That’s glamour. And he has a lot of it, a hell of a lot of it. So he shows it off.”

“Why’d he want a tiny jewel like ours,” Rock asked, “if he has that whole palace of glittering gemstones?”

“That palace was just glamour, too. But the jewel is real.”

“What’s Auberon really look like, under the glamour?”

“I’ve never looked. You think I’m suicidal?” she laughed.

“Nothing bad ever happens to you,” said Rock.

“On earth. Auberon is really, really powerful. My Dad was his jester, OK? There are beings out there that could whup my Dad’s ass with a thought, even Auberon’s, too. I’m squat. Sure, my powers are a lot for earth, but that’s just because earth’s gone downhill nowadays.”

“How long is ‘nowadays’?”

“The last four hundred years or so.” She grinned. “You never told me how it went with Auberon.”

“Well, once I found my voice, I asked him to cure my Dad, like we’d said. He just nodded and said it would be done. I thanked him, and the servant brought me back to you.”

“Good, good.”

“So he’ll be cured?”

Chloe nodded. “Yup.” They ate in silence. “Stay here and nap,” Chloe said, at last. “They’re not expecting you back at home until tomorrow afternoon.”

Rock smiled.

“And speaking of Bush,” said Chloe, “think I should run for president someday?”

***** 

After breakfast, Chloe fell asleep in her bed, and Rock crashed on the couch. When she got up that evening, she and Rock ate microwave dinners and watched television. She told him she’d stop by a bank in the morning, and exchange some bills, both real and glamoured, for real dollars to pay him back.

“It doesn’t feel like it ever happened,” he said.

“Reality is what I’m dealing with at the moment,” Chloe replied. “You’re pretty lucky, you know that? You’re now one of the handful of full-blooded humans alive today who has gone to Faerie and returned unharmed. You’re also one of the few humans to have held private counsel with a Fey lord.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Details.”

“I assume I can’t tell anyone.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you, that is, given how scared you were of the Fey when they were being nice.”

“Good point. But this is quite a secret.”

“Eh. I’ve seen bigger.”

He looked at her, but she only winked.

***** 

Adrian walked to school on Monday morning. He wasn’t sure what had happened to him. A week ago, on Friday night, Chloe had left him home alone, and gone to hang out with her friends. He’d sat the kitchen table, doing his homework.

Then, a mysterious stranger had showed up, a glittering, flying creature, who’d handed him an apple without a core. The being had told him to eat it. After one bite, Adrian had suddenly been whooshed away to the most beautiful place he’d ever seen. He’d danced and sung in a castle taller than the highest of skyscrapers and more beautiful than his wildest dreams. He’d slept on the softest bed in the universe, and everyone was so sweet and attentive and pretty. There had been lots of other little children, who’d told him about all the games they’d play together in the morning. But when he’d awoken, he’d instead been summoned to the king’s halls, and Chloe had been standing there. She’d hugged him, told him it was all an illusion, and that she’d come to take him home. Then her boyfriend had showed up, and they’d walked a long path, home.

And then, Chloe had denied that it had ever happened. So had her boyfriend. It was a dream, they told him.

But Adrian had been out of school for a week. Chloe told him he’d been sick, and hallucinating. But Adrian didn’t remember getting sick, or feeling feverish. He felt just fine; in fact, he felt better than before. His Mum and Dad refused to answer him about what had happened.

So even though the teachers thought he had been out of school sick, Adrian saw no reason not to tell his friends the other story. He went on about it all week.

“...And then, the great big blue king of the fairies, he called my sister a changeling,” bragged Adrian over lunch. “I looked it up online.”

“What’s it mean?”

“It means she’s not human.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I mean it. My sister is weird. She never gets in trouble for anything. She steals street signs, and puts nails in her bedroom door. She carries a knife of pure meteorite iron.”

“Your sister sounds cool,” said his friend Jeff.

“I guess. She’s pretty popular. And she can drive, too, even though she doesn’t have a license.”

“And she knew the fairy king?”

“Yup. Her boyfriend was really scared of him. The fairy king was, like, ten feet tall! And he had blue skin and long black hair. And you know what? My sister’s boyfriend’s dad was really sick, like dying sick. And now he’s all better.”

“A miracle?” asked Billy.

“Nope, magic.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“But magic’s not real,” said Jeff. “That’s all make believe.”

“Well, I believe it. And my sister does, too, even though she says she doesn’t.”

“Why would she say that?”

“Because it’s a secret, that’s why. You think she wants the grown-ups to learn of fairyland? You know as well as I do that it’s a kid thing. That’s why there were so many kids there.”

“Was it like Disneyland?” asked Jeff, skeptical but curious.

Adrian laughed, loving all the attention his story was generating. “Better,” he said. “Disneyland’s a joke. That’s all about money. All the lines, and stuff... That’s all pretend.” His eyes twinkled. “Disneyland’s all fake. They’re all making fun of fairies. But this,” he grinned, “this, my friends, was _real._ ”


End file.
